


Collateral

by WildfireKhaleesi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean x Reader, F/F, F/M, M/M, Reader Insert, Smut, Spn fandom, Supernatural - Freeform, sam x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildfireKhaleesi/pseuds/WildfireKhaleesi
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester had been your friends for a very, very long time. The mysterious death of your parents brought them back into your life briefly, only for them to be removed again. Where are they?





	1. Pilot

  When you were little you were always fascinated by the stories that your mom and dad would tell you. They painted images in your head that made your imagination grow. They constructed realms where you would escape to when you fell asleep at night.   
        Your mom and dad decided to let you in on the supernatural world when you were all of 9 years old. They feared that you wouldn't have the opportunity to properly train if they didn't educate you at a young age.   
        At first you denied it being real, probably because of shock. You figured something was up when your parents left you with the babysitter for days to weeks at a time in our house, but you never followed through with it because you didn't want to believe that they were in danger. However, when they told you that the supernatural exist, all of the pieces fell together and it made complete sense.   
        It made you feel exhilarated to put it nicely. You had a strong yearn to hunt down monsters and protect those who needed to be protected. Your parents trained you with how to use knives and how to drive a stick and automatic first. They didn't seem to think you needed to learn guns right away. When you hit ten, they started to get you focused on the history of monsters and all things that go bump in the night. You soaked all of the information in like a sponge. It was so utterly fascinating and surreal to you.           
        When you hit fifteen, they showed you how to fire a pistol. Sixteen, a shot gun. Seventeen, a sniper. Eighteen, semi automatics. The adrenaline rushes were pure euphoria for you. You felt strong and educated. You didn't fear the thought of death and monsters as much as you did at a younger age, and that was really nice for you.   
        One day when you were eighteen and waiting for your parents to arrive home from a hunt they had been on for a few days, you realized that your dog Brando needed to come back inside. You let the mastiff-akita mix back into the house and were greeted with slobbery kisses on your hands and face. Shortly after Brando was back in and you filled his food dish, someone rung the doorbell.   
        It was odd and really eerie to you. Your dad and mom would have allowed themselves in, and no one came to your house just because anyways. It's miles away from actual civilization. As you walked to the door you slid your knife into your boots and shoved your hand gun into your thigh holstered purse. The doorbell rang again as you reached the door. Brando took his place next to you and sat on his butt, waiting for you to open the door.  
        You took a deep breath and opened the door. John Winchester? You shook your head in disbelief before jumping into John's arms and smiling.   
        "I missed you, John! Where have you been?!" You giggled as Brando trotted over and rubbed his head against John's side. He released you from his grasp and patted Brando a few times on the head before looking at you apologetically. "What's wrong, old man?" You asked, fear was evident in your shaky voice.   
        You hadn't seen John for years. He worked with your parents on a few cases and often brought his sons over when he did. Dean was the eldest with short dirty blonde hair and vibrant green eyes. He always joked around with you and was a sort of friend who you had always had a massive crush on. You shared your age with Sam. Sam was the younger of the two, with brown hair and hazel green eyes. You hadn't seen the boys in roughly five years, and having John show up on your doorstep without your parents or the boys worried you.   
        "Dawn and Mitchell are missing, Y/N. I think they might be.. gone."   
        "What?" Your world was spinning and you could feel the color drain from your face. Within seconds everything went black and you collapsed to the floor.  
                                                                                ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
        You woke up to the feeling of your face being licked. You opened your eyes and realized it was Brando. You looked around to take in your surroundings and realized you were at the Winchester's house.   
        "John?" You yelled.  
        "Right here. How are you feelin'?" His gruff voice replied from the corner of the bedroom you were stationed in.   
        "I feel numb." You replied. "Do you think you could get me a glass of water or something?"  
        "I got you. Just lay down. Dean and Sam should be home from the store soon." John got up and left to get you some water. You heard things shuffling around in the kitchen and then the front door opening.  
        "Look, all I'm saying is that the checkout lady was definitely not checking you out aside from your groceries, Dean." You heard Sam argue. Dean was so full of himself sometimes.  
        "Yeah, yeah. Shut up Sammy." You heard Dean grumble.  
        "Jerk." Sam mocked.  
        "Bitch." Dean snapped. You giggled. The boys were so dynamic and easy to listen to.   
        "Hey, you guys." John shouted from in the kitchen. "Y/N is upstairs with Brando. Cool it, will ya?"  
        "Why's Ariane here?" Sam asked.  
        "Dawn and Mitchell are missing. I think they might be dead." John replied. You could feel the tension in the kitchen from down the hall. You shut your eyes, praying that it would stop all of this and that when you opened them you would be greeted with your bed and your mom and dad waking you up, home from their trip. You were wrong.  
        You heard feet shuffling and soon Sam and Dean were in the room with you. Brando jumped off of the bed to greet them and give them a thorough face licking.  
        "Y/N! We've missed you." Sam announced while practically engulfing me in a hug. He got HUGE!  
        "Woah, careful Moose. I'm fragile." You mocked, giving Sam a quirky nickname. He raised his hands in cooperation before leaning back down and giving you a way softer hug.   
        "Save some sugar for me, Sammy." You heard Dean mumble from behind Sam. Sam shuffled aside, revealing a smiling Dean. You gave Dean a smile in return, before holding your arms out, waiting for a bear hug. Before you could object, Dean had jumped on the bed next to you and pulled you against him.   
        "Long time, no see." He whispered before letting you go and hopping back up. Sam shot Dean a warning glare before John returned to the room, carrying your glass of water.   
        "Thanks." You said while he handed it to you. After chugging half of the cup, you sat up and noticed how much better you felt. "I feel way better now, I can probably go home soon."   
        "Hey, why don't you stay with us for a few days? We're moving soon.." Sam suggested. John nodded in agreement before looking at you, waiting for your answer.  
        "What about Brando?" You asked. Patting your giant dog on the head when he peaked his head up upon hearing his name.   
        "He can stay as well." John reassured.   
        "Well, alright. As long as it's fine with you guys. I guess I'm up for it."   
        Dean and Sam cheered before jumping and sitting on either end of the bed. They told you all about the hunts they had been on and how awesome they had gotten at hunting. You got a little jealous because of your lack of hunting recently. You were sure to be rusty by now. Your last hunt was on a ghost a year ago. Burned its bones and, poof, it was gone.   
        You felt a little intrusive, coming into their home for a few days, but you realized how much you needed it. You would have had an emotional breakdown being alone. Your parents were gone, most likely dead. The Winchesters were really the only family you had left. Your bright Y/E/C eyes filled with tears when you remembered this cold fact and you played nervously with your H/C hair. You didn't want to think about this.   
        You were brought back to reality when Dean tackled Sam and the two boys were a jumbled mess on the floor. You laughed with John while Brando watched them awkwardly.  
       "Five bucks says Sam takes Dean down." John piped up while walking towards you and sitting on a chair by the bed.   
        "You win, Winchester. I'm not risking five dollars for a bet that I know I'll lose." You giggled as you watched the two boys on the floor. Sam had Dean pinned and was laughing in happiness at his victory.   
        "You lose, Dean." He joked while sticking his tongue out. Dean replied with a scoff and kneed Sam off of him.   
        "Yeah, whatever." He mumbled before leaving the room. "Anyone want a beer? Dad?!" He called.   
        "Nah, I'm good." John replied. Looking at you and Sam as if you were supposed to answer.   
        "We're good too!" Sam shouted when he saw your confused face. Drinking? Not really your cup of tea. 

        These few days were going to be exhausting ones. You could already tell.


	2. Trifecta

  It was your third night in the Winchester residence. Brando had cuddled up next to your legs and fallen asleep when you heard a knock on the door.   
        "Come in." You whispered, loud enough for whoever it was to hear. The door opened not so nonchalantly and you peered over your pillow to see none other than Dean himself. You raised one eyebrow and looked at him with confusion. "Yeah, Dean?"   
        "I was just wondering if you were golden for a drink now?" He looked at you with hope in his eyes. This was just like Dean. Even when you were kids he would rope you into staying up late with him and talking. Sometimes it led to play wrestling, Dean wouldn't admit it now, but you always won. You looked down and saw that he was carrying two beers.           
        "Sure." You said suspiciously as he pranced over and handed you a bottle. "Ahhem." You coughed, looking at him expectantly and then motioning towards the cap. He laughed and fished out a bottle opener from his jeans pocket and tossed it to you. "Thanks." You mumbled while popping open the bottle.  
        "No problemo, sugar." He said when you tossed it back over, before he opened his own with a nice pop.   
        "So Dean, what's got you up at 11:45 at night?" You asked, glancing at the digital clock by your bed.   
        "We're leaving tomorrow." He huffed, swirling his thumb along the opening of his bottle before taking a big swig.  
        "Yeah, I know. Sammy told me." You replied sadly. You didn't want them to leave. You had no family left after them. You could feel the realization and pain sinking in when you took your own swig of beer. Dean looked at you sympathetically before you realized that you were crying. "Sorry." You muttered, looking down and tracing the swirly patterns on your blanket.  
        "No need to apologize. Do you want to maybe talk about it, shortstack?" He joked, but you could tell he was sincere and genuinely concerned. Dean was always like that with you. You fell off of your bike when you were 13 and got a single cut on your leg, but he wouldn't let you get back on until you explained to him that, yes, it did hurt a little bit.   
        "I just- You guys are going, I don't even know where, and I'm stuck here. With no one. I have no family aside from you guys. Brando is the only family I have left.." Your voice trailed off and your body shook with tears. Brando picked his head up before hopping off of the bed and laying down under the window on the opposite side of the room.   
        "Hey, hey. Look at me." Dean said while getting up and hopping next to you on the bed. He took his shoes and jacket off before leaning against some spare pillows and pulling you close to him. Your body stiffened at first, you had never been this close with Dean, not even as kids. But the pain in your chest won, and you buried your tear stained face into his side. He rubbed reassuring circles on your back and held you tighter.  
        "I know what'll make you feel better." He said before hopping up and leaving the room. You waited for roughly five minutes before debating whether you should go to sleep or not, but he returned quickly after the thought entered your mind.   
        "What's all of that?" You asked him. He had a cassette player and one tape. Setting the cassette on the table next to the bed, he shoved the tape in and pressed play before returning to your side and pulling you against him again. The familiar flow of music met your ears and you were instantly calm. "You remember?" You asked, turning your head up to look at his face.   
        "How could I forget our song?" He asked, wearing a proud face.   
        "Because the last time we listened to it together, I was 12." You argued. He closed his eyes and hummed along to the familiar tune. It was all of twenty seconds before you were softly singing.  
        "Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull,

            and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my skull.

            At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head, 

            only you, can cool my desire;

            Oh-oh-oh, I'm on fire."

        Your tears still fell as you sang the bridge of one of your favorite songs, but you felt more relaxed and happy. You squeezed Dean tightly before whispering a thank you.   
        "Don't sweat it. You're not the only one who really enjoys that song." He whispered. Your heart fluttered a bit before calming back down. Dean was always one for heavy rock like AC/DC, but since you were 10 and he was 14, you would always listen to Bruce Springsteen together. Nostalgia always flooded your mind when I'm On Fire would come on the radio, and thoughts of Dean would drown your conscience. It was always a good feeling, having that connection to him.   
        "Do you think you can stay in here tonight?" You asked quietly. You knew the answer was most likely a no, but Dean was warm and you didn't want to feel the cold that would meet you upon his absence. You felt his gaze on you, and you were too afraid to look up and meet it. Rejection was a huge fear of yours, especially from a childhood friend.  
        "Sure." He agreed before taking another swig of beer. "We can even listen to Bruce's greatest hits while you fall asleep." You looked up and saw him smiling, again. You rested your head back on his chest when Dancing In The Dark came on. Dean hummed along to it again, and the slow rising and falling of his chest with the vibrations from his humming sent you to sleep. 

\--------------

        "Y/N- Y/N! Wake up." Dean shook you awake and you jolted up. You were drenched in sweat and your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You looked around the room and took in your surroundings before finally taking in a deep breath.   
        "It was just a dream.." You huffed.   
        "What was?" He asked, pulling you closer to him and softly pushing some strands of hair out of your face. You looked down, debating whether you should tell him or not before he raised your chin up with his fingers and looked into your eyes. "What happened?" He asked, again.  
        "You and Sammy..." You managed to choke out before engulfing Dean in a hug, and shoving the horrible dream out of your mind. You couldn't imagine or visualize them dead. It killed you. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist before reaching over towards the table and putting I'm On Fire back on. He lied down and tapped his chest and held out his arms for you. You could feel yourself blushing before lowering your head on his shoulder.   
        This time he sang along. The whole song. It was beautiful to listen to, especially because you didn't take Dean for a singer. You guessed that having a deep voice benefits when trying to perform some Springsteen. You watched his jaw dance to the lyrics and before you could register what you were doing, you were tracing his jawline with your fingers.   
        He stiffened before relaxing and looking at you, and then he returned the favor. He ran his hand down the length of your face and moved some strands of hair behind your ear.   
        "You know I'll always be here, right?" He asked almost painfully.   
        "Yeah, just not physically..." You mumbled, disappointed. He rubbed his thumb along your eyebrow bone and you closed your eyes.   
        You felt his breath nearing your face and you breathed it in. You felt as his lips pushed against your cheek. They stayed there for a few seconds before parting. Your skin was hot where they touched and your heart was racing. He moved his face, but it stayed no more than three inches away from yours. You needed to be bold. You craned your neck and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him closer.  
        And then your lips met. You could taste the beer still, but it didn't bug you. As the kissing intensified and Dean licked your lips, asking for entrance, you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to explore. It felt so euphoric. At first the make out session was gentle and loving, but then it changed. There was passion and hunger, and pain.   
        You didn't have to speak to know what the pain was about. You didn't want to separate tomorrow, but it was going to happen.  
        Dean hooked his arms around your waist and shoved you down so that he was on top of you. He pulled away and looked at you with questioning eyes, you looked at him and nodded.   
        "Yes." You purred. He smiled at your consent and you pulled his shirt off. He trailed hot and sloppy kisses from your jaw to your cleavage before unbuttoning your flannel and ripping it off. You felt his mouth go from your cleavage to your bellybutton, stopping to remove your cotton pajama shorts. Then you felt it on your thighs, making a u-turn to return to your stomach, breasts, neck, jaw, and finally your mouth. You moaned into his mouth and he rocked his hips against your body.   
        He looked at you again, asking yet again with his eyes. You rolled your eyes in response before nodding your head and giving yourself to him.   
                                                                                ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
        You woke up to Brando licking your face and the sun peaking through the window, hitting your eyes. You groaned before flipping on your stomach and opening your eyes. The bedroom was an absolute mess. Sheets were on the floor and pillows were tossed around carelessly. Your mind wandered back to the previous night and you felt yourself blush deeply. You ran your hand across your jaw, amazed at the painful but enjoyable sensation you got in return. Your body was sore, but it felt amazing at the same time.   
        You left the room and used the bathroom, stopping to brush your teeth and put your hair in a bun and making sure that the hickey on your collarbone was well hidden by your hoodie before walking out to the Winchester's living room. You were shocked to be met with John and Sam. You looked around but didn't see Dean anywhere.   
        "Where's Dean?" You asked while you watched them put the few things they owned into a few big boxes.   
        "He uh, he took his stuff in the impala and left. He wanted to get ahead of schedule." Sam answered, looking apologetic. You shook your head and felt the pain in your heart. You didn't even get to say goodbye. "He left something on the counter for you, though." Sam added.   
        You turned and walked to the kitchen. There was a medium sized box with your name on it. It said for you to open it when you got home. Your heart ached, but you knew that you should wait like Dean wanted.   
        After helping Sam and John pack the things they needed, and helping them haul it to John's truck, you stretched your body out. Brando sat on the pavement at your feet, looking at John and Sam expectantly.   
        "Someone wants some cuddles." You giggled. John patted Brando on the head before Sam sat on the pavement and practically pulled Brando into his lap, giving him a massive hug that was very much appreciated.           
        "You take care of Y/N, okay Brando?" Sam asked, Brando turned to look at you and wagged his tail. "Good." Sam laughed.   
        Sam hopped up and looked at you.  
        "So, this is it." You said, looking at both John and Sam.   
        "Yep, kiddo. We'll see you soon though." John smiled. You wanted to believe him, but for some reason it just didn't sit right with you. You shoved the doubt out of your mind and gave Sam and John bear hugs.   
        You watched as they hopped into the truck and drove off, and you watched as they disappeared down the road.   
        "Welp, let's go home Brando." You said to your pal before turning on your heel and walking in the direction of your house, the box from Dean in your hands and Brando at your side.  
                                                                        -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
        It was an hour long walk, but you were finally home. You settled onto the couch and set the box in front of you. The ache returning to your heart. You eyed it suspiciously before ripping the tape off and opening the flaps. The cassette player and tape were laying in the box with a note. You felt the tears streaming down your face when you grasped the note with your small hands and opened it. Brando hopped onto the couch and rested his head on your lap while you read the note to yourself over and over again. 

               Listen to this when you need me. I'll be there.   
-Dean


	3. South Dakota

5 1/2 YEARS LATER  
        You woke up and stretched. Your whole body hurt from the hunt the night before. 'Fucking bloodsuckers.' You thought to yourself as you got up and headed for the bathroom. You paused in front of the mirror and ran a brush through your messy long hair, and brushed your teeth.   
        "Good enough." You mumbled before heading to your room and getting dressed. You shoved a banana down your throat along with some water before leaving your small apartment in search of a tattoo artist. It was time for you to get your two tattoos done and over with.   
        After 8 hours of squirming and complaining, you were out of the tattoo shop and making your way towards your baby, Bullet. You named your car after bullets because of it's sleek and dark appearance. You smiled as you approached the car and hopped in. Your wrist was hurting bad. You got a tattoo of Brando's leather collar with his name engraved on it around your wrist. He passed away last year from cancer and it hurt your heart to think about, but you were glad he would be with you wherever you went now. You looked down at your thigh, proud of your other tattoo as well.   
        You whipped out your phone and saw that you had three missed calls from an odd number. You dialed it back, waiting patiently for an answer.   
        "Y/N?" A deep voice asked.   
        "Speaking. Who's this?" You questioned.  
        "It's me, John. Winchester."   
        "Holy shit, John? How have you been, old man?"   
        "Well right now, I'm sore. Look, we need your help. Sam, Dean and I. We just got in a car wreck. Sam and I are fine, but Dean isn't looking good. He has fatal injuries. Damn demon ran us off the road in a big rig." You gasped at the news and about dropped your phone.  
        "Where are you guys?" You asked urgently.  
        "Sioux Falls, South Dakota. You're still in Wayne, Nebraska right?"   
        "Yeah, wait, how'd you know that? Gah, never mind. It doesn't matter. I'll be there in around 2 and a half hours. Let Sam know." You hung up the phone before John had a chance to reply and drove off. You had all of your gear in your trunk and you felt your anxiety kicking in as John's words burned into your brain. Dean had fatal injuries. You needed to get there, fast.   
        You pressed on the gas as hard as you could and sped up along I-29.           
        Sure enough, you were there three hours later. You drove up to the hospital, happy to see Sam waiting outside for you. You jumped out of the car and ran up to him.  
        "Woah, Moose. You got bigger." You gawked at the mountain of a man in front of you before you were engulfed in a hug. "Where is he?" You asked as you pulled away.  
        "This way, c'mon." Sam lead you to Dean's room, you had to run to catch up to his big strides.   
        "Slow down Moose. I'm somewhat normal height! Remember that." You huffed breathlessly as you approached the room. John sat outside of the door waiting for us.   
        "Sam, you gotta go meet up with Bobby. Clean out the trunk of the Impala. Get the colt, and you bring it back to me." John ordered.  
        "Yeah, I got it. Don't worry about it. Y/N, will you stay with Dean?" Sam turned to you and asked.   
        "He up?" You asked.  
        "Uhm, no. He's in some sort of coma.." Sam answered sadly. It hurt your heart to know how much pain he was in from his brother's state.  You watched John hand Sam some sort of list. Sam looked at it questioningly for a while before shrugging and heading off for Bobby and Baby.  
        "Well, I'm going to go check on Dean." You mumbled before leaving the hallway and entering the older Winchester's room.  
        Your breathing hitched as you entered the room. There were so many fucking machines.  As if your breathing couldn't get any more hitched, right? You glanced over at the hospital bed and saw Dean. Machines hooked up to him, monitoring anything in his body. His face was relaxed and covered in cuts, and that bugged you more. He should be awake right now. Not on the brink of death.   
        You made your way to the chair beside the hospital bed, but stopped when you felt something brush across your face. You looked around the room, but no one was there. Just you and a dream-stuck Dean.   
        You sat in the chair and before you knew it, you were crying. Your heart hurt at the sight of Dean. He looked so peaceful, but he was in so much pain. You gripped his hand in yours and kissed it.   
        "You know, you've caused me a lot of worry." You joked, your voice cracking from the tears in your eyes and throat. "I haven't seen you in years, and this is what it comes to. First time I've seen you since my parents passed, and you're in a life versus death situation. I can't do this, Dean." Your voice faltered and the tears built up again. "I've missed you, you know? Like crazy. I didn't think I would make it after you guys left. I was so alone. And you guys were gone! But, you know what? I dealt with it. And then Brando passed, and I was always drinking and ripping myself to shreds emotionally. I need you guys, Dean. You can't leave me. I have nothing left." You choked out, burying your head into his hand.   
        John soon made his way into Dean's room as well, and sat in the chair opposite of you. You ignored his entrance and stayed glued to Dean's side, watching for any sudden movement that would indicate him waking up. Soon Sam was back and in Dean's room with you. He walked over to the window and just stared out of it blankly.  
        "You're quiet." John observed from his seat in the chair.  
        "You think I wouldn't find out?!" Sam shouted, tossing the bag he was holding into John's lap.  
        "What are you talking about?" John questioned, but his eyes told you he already knew.  
        "That stuff from Bobby! You don't use it to ward off a demon-- You use it to summon one! You're bringing the damn demon here, having some stupid macho showdown?!"   
        You got up and in between the two men. Angry Sam scared you.   
        "I have a plan, Sam." John replied dryly from behind you, only making Sam more infuriated.   
        "That's exactly my point!" He screamed. You held on to his arms.  
        "Sam, hey. We don't need doctors or the security in here, okay? Breathe." You whispered.           
        "Dean is dying and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"  
        "Do NOT tell me how I feel!" John argued, pointing a finger at your Moose. "I am doing this for Dean!"  
        "How?! How is revenge going to help him?" Sam questioned. "You're not thinking about anybody but yourself! It's the same selfish obsession."  
        "That's funny, I thought this was your obsession, too! This demon? Killed your mother, killed your girlfriend! You begged me to be part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!"  
        "It was possessing you! I would have killed you, too!" Your head was twisting at all of the information the two Winchester's were throwing out.   
        "Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!" You watched Sam's face contort at the words his father had spat out, you could feel my heart sinking at the exchange as well. They were so different now. What happened?  
        "Go to hell." Sam muttered.   
        "You know what, I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake!"  
        "SHUT UP!" You shrieked, surprising even yourself. You turned just in time to watch a glass of water fling off of the table and onto the floor. "Holy shit." You jumped, backing up towards Sam. The three of you looking at the broken glass on the floor in amazement.   
        You listened and heard all of the nurses on the floor yelling things to each other as the alarms to the machines in Dean's room went off.   
        "We need to get out. Now." Sam and John piled out of the room after you as nurses piled in. You watched as Dean began to flatline and they went to work. Using paddles to bring him back.   
        "No." Sam choked out from behind you. You turned around and hugged him close. Tears were shaking your bodies as you listened to the exchange of words inside the room.  
        "Still no pulse."  
        "360."  
        "Charging."   
        "All clear."   
        "Clear."   
        You cringed at the sound of more electrical shocks being sent into Dean's body through the paddles.   
        "Still no pulse."  
        "Let's go again."  
        "All clear."   
        "Clear."   
        "I SAID GET BACK!" You heard Dean's voice yell, but it wasn't Dean? Was it? Sam's arms dropped from around you, and he looked at you with a tear stained confused face.   
        "We got a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm." A nurse announced from in the room.  
        "Did you hear that?" He asked you in a whisper.  
        "Yeah.. You don't think?"   
        "It could be."   
        "Ouija board?" You smiled at him with your suggestion, he nodded and ran off.   
                                                                                               -------------------------------------------------------------  
        You entered Dean's room as soon as the nurses were gone.  
        "I know you're here." You whispered. "I'm glad you are. I miss you so much, Winchester."  
        "Hey, got it." Sam announced, walking into the room with a brown bag.   
        "Well, let's see it, Moose." You replied, sitting on the floor with your legs crossed like an excited child at Christmas. Sam sat down next to you, and placed the Ouija board in front of you.   
        "I can feel him making fun of us." Sam muttered, getting the board fully prepared.  
        "Yeah, he probably would be." You giggled.   
        "Dean, are you here?" Sam asked the room. You waited a few moments, nothing. You were about to remove your hands from the triangular piece, but it started moving. You gasped in shock with Sam as it moved over to 'Yes.'  
        "Oh, it's good to hear from you, man." Sam laughed in relief.   
        "I've missed you, buddy." You said from your seat by Sam.   
        "Hasn't been the same without you, Dean." Sam added. We waited for a little bit before the piece started moving again.  
        "H. U. N. T. Hunt." You spoke as the letters went.   
        "Are you hunting?" Sam asked in disbelief. The piece moved over to 'Yes' again. "Dean, what are you hunting? We're in a hospital. Do you know what it is?"  
        "Too many questions, Moose. What is it you're hunting, Dean?" You asked, cutting out some of Sam's list. The piece started moving again. "R. E. A. P. E. R. The Reaper." You were afraid to ask what you knew Sam and you were thinking.  
        "Dean... Is it after you?" Sam asked for you. The piece, again moved to 'Yes.'  
        "If it's here naturally..." You began, cutting your own words off.  
        "There's no way he can stop it." Sam finished. "No. No, no, no. There's got to be a way." Sam stated, scrambling to his feet. You followed his movements and stretched as you stood up. "Dad will know what to do." Quickly, you set off for John's room.  
                                                                                                        -----------------------------------------------------  
        "Oh you're fucking kidding me." You groaned as you walked in and saw an empty hospital bed.   
        "I have his journal thing." Sam said from a corner of the room, holding a thick notebook. "Let's just get back to Dean, okay?"  
        You practically jogged behind Sam, again trying to keep up with his strides.   
        "So, dad wasn't in his room." Sam announced to the air, or Dean.  
        "We got his journal though." You added, sitting in the chair by Dean again, and holding his hand.   
        "Maybe there's something in here." Sam concluded, rifling through the pages of the old journal.   
        A few minutes passed before Sam flung the book across the room.   
        "NOTHING!" He yelled in frustration. You got up and hugged him tight.  
        "We'll figure something out. He can't leave us yet, Moose." You reassured him.  
        "Hear that Dean? There's nothing in the book. But I'll find a way to help you. We'll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting. You definitely can't leave me here alone with dad. Y/N will be help, but dad and I? We'll kill each other. You know that." He joked. "Dean, you got to hold on. You can't go, man, not now." You hugged Sam tighter, tears threatening to spill again. "We were just starting to be brothers again." Sam whimpered, and the tears fell. As if on cue, Dean woke up.   
        "Dean!" You screamed, running to his side. "Wait a second, okay? Sammy, get doctors, NOW." You yelled, holding on to Dean's hand. He seemed to relax a little when he saw you, but he was still in pain and gasping for air. The doctors entered and pried you out of the room with Sam.   
        Sam hugged you and laughed. "He's going to be okay." He breathed. You laughed a bit yourself and soon the gasping stopped and a doctor called the two of you in.  
        "I don't know what to say." He began, looking at all of you. You quickly ran and gave Dean a hug as you listened to the doctor. "The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You got to have some kind of angel watching over you."  
        "Thanks doc." Dean exhaled, as the doctor left the room. "What was after me?"   
        "A reaper." You answered.  
        "How did I ditch it?" Dean asked, amazed by his own actions.   
        "You got us." Sam laughed.  
        "Dean, you really don't remember anything?" You asked.  
        "No... Except this pit in my stomach. You guys, something's wrong." Again, as if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. You turned to see John standing in the doorway.  
        "How you feeling, dude?" He asked his eldest son.   
        "Fine, I guess." Dean replied. "I'm alive."  
        "That's what matters." John smiled. Your stomach turned, this didn't feel right. You looked at Sam with an eyebrow raised and he shrugged his shoulders.   
        "Where were you last night?" Sam questioned his dad.  
        "I had some things to take care of."  
        "Well, that's specific." Sam argued, his face turning cold. You grabbed Sam's hand, concerned.          
        "Come on, Sam." Dean interjected from his bed, his eyes dropping to your hands and flickering with some sort of emotion you couldn't exactly place your finger on. You quickly dropped Sam's hand and went to the corner of the room, picking up John's journal and setting it on the table by the door.   
        "Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.   
        "No." John answered.  
        "You know, why don't I believe you right now?"  
        "Can we not fight?" John asked as he stepped closer to Sam, you watched cautiously. "Half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Look, Sammy, I've made some mistakes; but I've always done the best I could. For you, too, Y/N. You're another of my own to me. Look Sam, I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"   
        "John, are you okay?" You asked, concerned.  
        "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired." He answered. "Would you two mind getting me a cup of caffeine? Yourselves, too. You look beat."   
        "Yeah, yeah. Sure." Sam answered, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the room with him.  
        You walked in silence to the coffee machines downstairs and grabbed three big cups of black coffee. Your mind was in euphoria as you took a sip of your own. It took you a while to get back upstairs, not wanting to spill the hot coffee on the floor or yourselves. You know how everything feels inevitable in slow motion? It felt like time slowed down as Sam and you walked down the long hallway towards Dean's room. Your eyes scanned the rooms that you passed for no reason, but they stopped when you saw a familiar body laying on the floor.   
        "Sam, don't look." You said, trying to shield him from the scene in the room; but it was too late.   
        "Dad? DAD!" Sam yelled, dropping the two coffees he was carrying and running into the room.  
        "HELP!" You yelled down the hall. Soon, nurses and doctors showed up and rushed John's body to an emergency room. "I'll go get Dean, you stay with John, okay?" You asked Sam. He nodded at your words and you ran down the hall.  
        "DEAN." You shouted, running into the room.  
        "Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked, sitting up quick and looking at you with concern.  
        "It's your dad." You said, you couldn't find the words to say, so instead you grabbed Dean's arm, shoving it over your shoulders and helped him up; bringing him with you. You neared the room and Sam helped you position Dean, all of you standing near the entrance as you heard the flatline. A nurse turned and tried to usher you out of the room.  
        "No no no! He's our dad. No. It's our dad!" Dean yelled, causing the nurse to back off.   
        "Okay, let's try again. An amp of atropine." The doctor ordered. So many people were working on John, with no silver lining.  
        "Come on." Dean whimpered, grabbing your hand and squeezing.  
        "Stop compression." The doctor ordered again, waiting for a response. A nurse took John's pulse.  
        "Still no pulse." She answered.  
        "Come on." Dean whispered again, squeezing your hand even tighter.  
        "Okay, that's it." The doctor announced. "I'll call it. Time of death-- 10:41 AM."  
        And then everything went quiet and Dean pulled you into him.


	4. Remembering

\----------------------------------------  
"Dean! C'mon Dean, where'd you go!?" You yelled, running down your long driveway towards the Winchester's home.  
It was one thing to be upset, but he left your birthday party.  
"I don't turn 10 everyday, Dean!" You yelled again, pleading for him to come out and talk to you as you neared their house.  
Soon, Dean was out of his house. A huge backpack on his back and his knife in it's sheath.   
"Y/N, move." Dean mumbled, trying to shove you aside so that he could retrieve his bike.  
"No." You replied, standing directly in front of the bike and defiantly eyeing the 14 year old in front of you.  
"I need to find him, Y/N." Dean reasoned, his face turning hard and full of emotion.  
"Mom and dad said that John just needed some extra time on the hunt, Dean. He'll be home soon. Please don't go?"  
"You know I can't do that, Y/N. He's my dad. He needs my help. Sammy will be here with you." He replied coldly, turning his eyes away from you.  
"He will be back, Dean. He always comes back. He'd never leave you and Sam. Please don't leave me. Not on my birthday." You complained, giving Dean the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.   
"I'll give him a day. If he's not back by then, I'm leaving." Dean huffed as he slung his backpack off of his shoulders and onto the cement. "I just don't understand why he does this. He makes promises to me and Sammy, and doesn't keep them." You'd never seen Dean like this.  
He was the strong one. Whenever Sammy and him were in town and you'd hang out, he was always the one to kill the spiders, or defend you from school bullies. He was never the weak link. You watched Dean break down helplessly, rubbing his back and hugging him tight before he could deny any affection.   
"Dean! Y/N!" Your mom yelled from your porch. "Pie's ready! Come on!"  
You let go of Dean and gave him a smile, grabbing his hand and towing him along with you as you ran back to your home.  
\-----------------------------------------  
        The three of you stood in front of the flames rising above you. Your heart felt shriveled and your face was stained with tears and puffy as hell. Dean stood in the middle of Sam and you. The flames rose higher and higher as John's body burned.   
        "B- Before he-- Did he say anything to you? About anything?" Sam asked, looking at Dean. You diverted your eyes back to the flames and let your body and mind become numb. All of your parent figures were gone now.  
        "No. Nothing." Dean answered from your side.   
        You kept watching the flames dance with the dark hue of the sky. It must be 3 a.m by now.   
        "Y/N?" Sam asked from your side. You looked over to see both of the Winchester's staring at you, waiting for a response.  
        "Huh, what?" You asked.  
        "We're going to go to Bobby's. Get the Impala patched up."  
        "I'm going with you." You replied matter-of-factly. These boys were your family, and you just lost someone important. You weren't going to let them go and disappear, too.   
        "Nope." Dean answered, starting to turn away from you and towards the road..  
        "You don't get to decide, Dean." He turned to face you at your words. "I've missed you boys and John ever since you walked out of your house that morning. If I recall correctly, I didn't even get a damn goodbye from you... No, I'm not letting you two go again. Not after all of these years of worrying and missing you. And certainly not after this." You shouted, pointing towards the flames. The two looked at you incredulously, like they'd never heard you yell or backtalk before. "Besides," You added, storming past them, "I can give you a ride."   
        ---------------------------------  
        You took your time on the drive to Bobby's salvage yard, listening to the music while Sam slept in the backseat and Dean watched out of the window in the passenger seat. You nearly crashed Bullet when I'm On Fire started playing on the radio station. You slammed your fist down on the power button, turning the radio off. Sam stirred behind you and sat up, taking in the scenery while you felt Dean's eyes scanning your face. You ignored the two and stayed focus on the road.   
        Thankfully the drive ended minutes after. You pulled into the lot and were amazed by all of the car parts surrounding us.   
        "Well, you guys can have fun searching for the Impala, I'm going to camp in the back and get some shut eye." You announced as the car came to a stop. Sam hopped out of the back while Dean opened his door and stretched. You quickly got a blanket out of the back of Bullet and settled into the backseat like Sam had. You were out in seconds.   
        ---------------------------------  
        "Morning sleeping beauty." Dean scoffed as you walked up to the two boys working on the Impala. It's been a week. A whole week.   
        "Bite me." You snapped, turning and smiling at Sam.   
        "Cold." Dean mumbled, going back to work under the car. Sam giggled from his stance by the sleek black metal and shook his head, clearly amused at your and Dean's exchange.   
        "How's Baby coming along?" You asked once Sam had regained his composure.   
        "Slow." Dean replied.  
        "Need any help?"   
        "What-- You under a hood? I'll pass." Dean laughed.  
        "Suit yourself, Winchester. You've never seen my hands in action." You scoffed.  
        "Oh, but haven't I?"   
        You could pretty much feel your blush coming to life, heating your face an extra odd number of degrees.   
        "Need anything else then?" Sam asked from beside you, trying to change the subject quickly.  
        "Stop it, Sam." Dean growled, pulling himself out from under Baby and walking across the cement to the tool box.  
        "Stop what?" Sam questioned, irritation in his voice. What did he do?  
        "Stop asking if I need anything. Stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."   
        "All right, Dean, it's just... We've been at Bobby's for a week now, and you haven't brought up dad once." Sam explained, his hands on his hips.   
        None of you really brought up John, in Dean's defense. The thought of it all was painful. It wasn't something you wanted to remember.  
        "You know what, you're right. Come here. I'm going to lay my head gently on your shoulder, and maybe we could cry and hug. Maybe even slow dance. Y/N, you can join, too!" Dean replied, turning to face Sam and you. You took a step closer to the boys, not wanting them to fight now.   
        "Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead, the colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this." Sam had worked himself up into a pant.   
        "What do you want me to say?"  
        "Say something, all right! Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry, don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here, all day, buried underneath this damn car."  
        "Revenge, huh?"           
        "You guys, c'mon. This is all bullshit." You moaned, getting between them even more.  
        "Yeah!" Sam answered his brother, ignoring you.  
        "Sounds good. Got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of dad's research? Cause I sure ain't. When we do finally find it-- Oh wait, like you said, the colt's gone. But I'm sure you figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? The only thing I can do, is I can work on the car." Dean finished, leaning back down and going to work on Baby again.  
        "We got something, all right." Sam replied, watching his brother. "It's what I originally came out here to tell you two." Sam looked at me, you raised your eyebrows, suspicion creeping into your brain. Sam fished into his pocket and pulled out a phone. "It's one of dad's old phones. It took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen." Sam pressed the speaker button and held the phone out between Dean and you.   
        "John, it's Ellen... again." The voice began on the phone. She sounded middle aged and concerned. "Look, don't be so stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."   
        You and Dean looked at each other, and then at Sam, expecting to hear more. Sam rolled his eyes before adding, "That's four months old."   
        "Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at you amazed.  
        "Yeah."  
        "Well who's Ellen?" You asked.  
        "Any mention of her in dad's journal?" Dean added, standing up and taking a spot beside you.   
        "No, but I ran a trace on the phone number and got an address." Sam smiled when he told you, clearly impressed with his own skills.  
        "I'll bring my car around." You stated after Dean nodded towards Sam. Before they could say no, you ran off, getting Bullet.  
\---------------------------------  
        "Are you sure about this?" Sam asked you, pulling me back down to reality.  
        "Yes. You guys aren't leaving me out anymore. I'm coming with you." You finalized, keeping your eyes on the road and your attention on the task at hand. Get to Ellen's.  
        "You really want to run around the country and gank sons of bitches with us?" Dean asked again, his constant questioning was starting to really rub you the wrong way.  
        "Yes, Dean. I'm positive. I've got no family at home, nothing to do now that I killed the bloodsuckers the other night. My schedule is pretty much deserted. We don't know this Ellen woman, I'm not letting you guys go alone. Plus, I'm kind of curious myself."  
        "Alright. If that's what you want."   
        The rest of the drive was silent. Roughly five hours later you pulled up to the location given.  
        "Harvelle's Roadhouse?" You looked at Dean when you read the sign. He gave you the same confused look back. The house was worn down and looked abandoned. You climbed out of Bullet and walked around. You kept your gun holstered in your thigh purse, and your hand armed with your knife.  
        "Hello? Anyone here?" Dean called out as he approached the door, you stayed close behind him just in case. "Hey, Sammy, did you bring the--"   
        "Yes, of course." Sam answered, tossing Dean a wallet looking thing of some sort. Maybe a lock pick kit? Soon, Dean had the door opened and you stepped inside, Sam and you sandwiching Dean.  
        Off to the side of the big room was a man laying on a pool table.   
        "Hey, buddy?" Sam called from the other side of Dean.  
        Dean stepped forward first, observing the man, but not touching him.  
        "I'm guessing that's not Ellen." You joked from the set of three stairs leading up to the pool table.  
        "Yeah." Dean replied, still looking around carefully. Sam turned and walked towards the other room, rummaging through things. You stood behind Dean, waiting for Sam to come back when you felt the barrel of a gun on your back.   
        "The fuck?" You asked, raising your hands in surrender. Dean turned and looked at you, his eyes widening at the barrel on your back.   
        "Sam! Need some help in here!" Dean shouted.  
        "Sorry, Dean, Y/N." Sam replied as he came out through a door, another gun on his back. "I can't right now. I'm a little tied up." A middle aged woman held a pistol to Sam's back.  
        "Wait, Sam and Dean? Winchester?" The woman asked.   
        "Yeah." Sam and Dean answered in unison.   
        "Son of a bitch." The woman replied, lowering her gun. Whereas the barrel of a rifle was still on your back. You quickly used your back to turn and grab the barrel of the gun from another woman, clearly younger. You emptied the barrel and looked at everyone in the room.  
        "What?" You asked, seeing as how they were all staring at you.  
        "And who are you?" The older woman asked you.  
        "Certainly not a Winchester. I'm Y/N L/N." you answered dryly, earning a smile from Dean. Always one to like your asshole personality.  
        "Shit, Mitchell and Dawn's kid?" The woman asked. You furrowed your brow and grew defensive.  
        "How'd you know my parents?" Your voice shook as you asked. Dean walked over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.   
        "Mom, you know these people?" The girl who had the gun on you asked.  
        "Yeah, these are some old friend's kids." She laughed before introducing herself to you. "Hi, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter, Jo."  
        "Hey." Jo replied. "Can I have my rifle back?" You looked at her skeptically before returning the gun to her hands.   
        "Please, sit down." Ellen offered you all seats at the bar counter and fixed up some drinks. You sat in between Dean and Sam. Dean, closest to the door and Sam closest to Jo.   
        "You called our dad and said you could help him. Help him with what?" Dean asked Ellen as she finished preparing the drinks.  
        "Well, the demon of course. I heard he was closing in on it." You about coughed up your drink.  
        "We're still talking about the demon that killed your mom and your girlfriend, right?" You whispered to Sam. He nodded his head and you returned to listening to the conversation.   
        "Was there an article in the Demon Hunter's Quarterly I missed?" Dean asked, raising his hands in frustration. You rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. "How do you know about all of this?"   
        "Hey, I just run a saloon. Hunters are known to pass through here now and again, including your dad a long time ago. And your parents." She pointed a finger towards you. "They were like family, once."  
        "Oh yeah? How come they've never mentioned you before?" You asked, coldly.   
        "You'd have to ask them that." She replied with about as much ice as you had.   
        The room went quiet. Mourning your parents wasn't something you planned on doing today. You just wanted damn answers.   
        "So, why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked, changing the subject. You squeezed his hand in thanks before returning it to your lap.   
        "Hey, don't do me any favors." Ellen replied. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your asses on the way out. John, Dawn and Mitchell wouldn't have sent you here if..." Her voice trailed off as realization hit. "They didn't send you." She announced, but it sounded more like a question, one that she didn't want us to answer. The boys diverted their gazes and you, being the weakest link, started crying.   
        "He's all right, isn't he? And Dawn and Mitchell?" She looked at the three of you.  
        "No. No they aren't." Sam answered. Before you could listen to any more, you got up and ran out of the bar. You got into Bullet and cried your little heart out. You wanted all of the tears gone. You were tired of being the weak one.   
        After a few minutes, you made your way back into the roadhouse. Dean gave you a concerned look and pulled you into a hug as you all gathered around the man who was napping on the pool table.  
        "And who's this?" You asked as you took your seat next to Dean.  
        "Ash. He's a genius." Jo answered.   
        "He's no genius. Guy's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie." Dean mumbled.  
        "I like you." Ash replied.  
        "Thanks." Dean added sarcastically.   
        "Let's just give him a chance." You finalized, looking at Ash closely.   
        "All right." Dean agreed, finally taking his seat and looking at you, still concerned. You smiled at him, hoping he'd drop your emotional outburst, and then redirected your attention towards Ash. Sam tossed John's papers on the bar countertop and Dean scooted them down in front of Ash. "This is about a year's worth of our dad's work. Let's see what you make of it."   
        Ash smiled as he opened the packet and ruffled through the papers, soon looking dissatisfied.   
        "Come on. This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this." He told you.  
        "Our dad could." Sam replied.  
        "These are nonparametric statistical overviews." His mullet bounced when he talked, but boy was he smart. "Cross spectrum correlations. I mean... DAMN. They're signs, omens. If you can track them, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."  
        "Can you track it or not?" Sam asked, becoming a tad impatient.  
        "Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Give me... 51 hours." He replied, piling all of the papers and heading for a different room.   
        "Hey, man. By the way, I dig the haircut." Dean called after him, earning your elbow in his side. He grimaced at you before looking back at Ash.   
        "All business up front, party in the back." Ash replied, running his hands through his hair. You laughed with Sam while Dean looked at Ash in amazement. Ash was soon out of the room and the three of you sat and looked at your surroundings.  
        "Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked, pointing to a counter with a police scanner and a folder on it.  
        "A police scanner." She replied carefully.  
        "No, not that. The folder." You answered.  
        "I was going to give it to a friend, but you can have a look." She retorted, picking up the folder and tossing it to Sam, Dean and you.    
        Sam rifled through it, leaving you and Dean to look around aimlessly.   
        "You know," Dean whispered to you. "51 hours to kill maybe we could..." You looked at him with a warning stare.  
        "Can it, Winchester." You answered. He raised his hand in apology and you laughed.  
        "A couple murders, not far from here. Looks like a case." Sam announced.   
        "Finally, some action." You groaned, hopping up and heading out to the car, tossing Dean a wink as you closed the door behind you. 


	5. Clowns

    "I fucking hate clowns.." You mumbled, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.   
        "Killer clowns." Dean corrected, smirking at you from the passenger seat. You felt Sam chuckling in the back.  
        "Shut up." You ordered the two of them, trying your best to even your breathing and prepare yourself for the day ahead.  
        "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents." Sam announced from the back. You gave Dean a look that said if I get murdered by a fucking clown, I'll haunt your ass. He smirked in return. "Ripped them to pieces, actually." Sam added. You cringed at the thought of a clown shredding people.   
        "Was the family at some party or carnival?" Dean asked.  
        "Yeah, yeah. The Cooper Carnival." Sam answered.   
        "How do we know we aren't dealing with some psychotic fuckwad in a carny suit?" You asked, using cuss words to alleviate the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.   
        "Well, the cops have no viable leads, and the employees were tearing down shop-- Alibis all around. Not to mention that the girl flat out told police that she saw a clown vanish into thin air."   
        "Okay, well that definitely classifies as a case." You mumbled half-heartedly. This meant you'd have to confront one of your biggest fears since you were a damn toddler.   
        "Cops are of course blaming that on trauma, though." Sam added, shaking his head in pure disapproval.  
        "I know what you're the both of you are thinking--" Dean stated, smiling from ear to ear at both you and Sam. "Why did it have to be clowns?" He mocked the both of you, trying his best to fake fear on his face.  
        "Oh give us a break." Sam groaned.  
        "You didn't think I'd remembered, did you?" Dean turned around and asked Sam, a hearty laugh erupting from his chest and throat.   
        "Remembered what?" You asked, curiosity piquing your interest.   
        "You still cry whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."   
        "Hey now, the guy is a bit of a damn oddball." You defended Sam, earning a smile of thanks before again refocusing on the road.  
        "At least I'm not afraid of flying." Sam added.  
        "Planes crash!" Dean shouted.   
        "And apparently clowns kill. Both are scary, now shut up." You reasoned, trying hard to keep your attention on the dark road ahead of you. "These types of murders, they ever happen before?" You asked Sam.  
        "Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus. Same M.O. -- It happened three different times, three different locales." He answered carefully, making sure not to leave anything out.  
        "That's weird." Dean spoke up from your side. "If it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale. You know, a house or a town."  
        "So how's this one moving from city to city? Carnival to carnival?" You asked, voicing what everyone was most likely thinking.  
        "Cursed object maybe?" Dean offered. "Spirit attaches it to something, and the carnival carries it around with them."  
        "Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt." Sam's sarcasm helped you a little bit with what you were going to be running into. 

The rest of the car ride was driven in silence.

\-------------------

        The rocks under the car groaned in response to your decreasing speed. Bullet finally came to a stop and the three of you scanned the carnival ahead.  
        "Woah, check it out. Five-O." Dean whispered next to you. You looked over to the left and saw four men, two higher looking police officials, and two clowns.   
        "They look so fucking disturbing. They're probably doing more mental damage to children than entertaining them." You grumbled, trying not to focus on how absolutely terrifying the clowns ahead of you appeared.   
        Sam got out first, he was going to try and get more information from the five-O while you and Dean parked Bullet closer to the carnival. As you walked up you saw Sam having a staring match with a midget. Dean chuckled a bit before taking stance next to his brother.  
        "Did you get her number?" He asked. you about spat up the water you were drinking, receiving Sam's bitch face in return.  
        "More murders?" You asked Sam, trying to change the subject.  
        "Two more. Apparently, they were also ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them." Sam replied. "Who apparently fingered a clown."   
        Dean and you looked at each other in amazement before shifting your gazes to Sam. You changed my face from amazement to disgust and Sam looked back at you, clearly confused.  
        "What?" He asked you and Dean. You just shook your head before scanning the people at the carnival. "You guys, you know looking for a cursed object, it's like finding a needle in a stack of needles. It could be anything."   
        "Well, it's bound to give off EMF." You replied, turning towards Sam and giving him a shrug.   
        "So, we'll just have to scan everything." Dean added, smiling at himself for putting it together, somewhat.  
        "Oh, good! Cause that's nice and inconspicuous." Sam retorted sarcastically. You gave him my own bitch face before looking at Dean.  
        "I guess we'll just have to blend in." Dean stated, looking over at a Help Wanted sign.   
        "Goody gumdrops." You murmured, following behind the Winchesters.  
        You entered the big red and white tent, watching a man throwing knives at a target board.   
        "Excuse me!" Dean called, drawing the man's attention. He was wearing thick black glasses and a nice looking suit. "Have you seen him around?"   
        "What is that? Some kind of joke?" The man asked in return, anger radiating through his voice. He pulled off his glasses to show glazed over eyes.  
        "Oh god, I'm sorry." Dean reassured.  
        "You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper or a sunset, or anything at all?" Dean looked taken aback and stared at you, pleading for you to come to his rescue.  
        "Sir--" You started.  
        "Hey, Barry. Is there a problem?" A midget asked as he entered the tent from behind you.  
        "Yeah! This guy hates blind people!" Barry, the blind man, yelled.  
        "No I don't!" Dean shouted.  
        "Hey, buddy, what's your problem?" The midget shouted.  
        "It's just a little misunderstanding!" Dean reasoned.  
        "Little? You son of a bitch!" The man shouted, raising some sort of club at Dean.  
        "That's enough of the bullshit!" You yelled, getting in between the man and Dean. "Can someone just tell us where Mr. Cooper is?! NOW. Please?"   
        The woman that Sam had a stare off with earlier entered the tent.   
        "Mr. Cooper?" She asked.  
        "Yeah, help. Please?" You pleaded.   
        "Go out the back of the tent and across the yard. You'll see his trailer." She smiled, and then winked at Sam. You had to hold in your laugh as you grabbed the still shocked Dean's hand and lead him to the back. Sam was right on your tails.   
\----------------------------------------  
        The trailer looked worn down and gross on the outside. A man sat outside watching us as you approached.  
        "Mr. Cooper?" Sam asked.  
        "The one and only." The man replied gruffly. "Come on in! I'm assuming you're here because of the open positions?" He asked, narrowing his eyebrows.  
        "Yeah." You replied, stepping up before the brothers and into the trailer.   
        "You all picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat." Mr. Cooper ordered. There were two normal chairs, and one clown chair. You swiftly sat in one of the normal ones, trying to stay far away from the freaky clown shit. Dean followed after you, leaving Sam to sit on the clown. "We got all kinds of local trouble."  
        "What do you mean?" You asked, placing your hands in your lap.  
        "A couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever work the circuit before?"  
        "Yes sir. Last year through Texas and Arkansas." You answered, smiling like a cheese ball.  
        "Doing what? Ride jockeys? Pull shoot? A-and-S man?" You felt Dean shift uncomfortably next to you, along with Sam.  
        "Little bit of everything, I guess." You mustered a smile again, the boys looked guilty as charged. Shit.  
        "You three have never worked a show in your life, have you?" Mr. Cooper asked incredulously.  
        "Nope." Dean answered, his big smile breaking across his face. "But, we really need the work. And Sam here's got a thing with the bearded lady." Dean added, craning his head in Sam's direction, earning the bitchiest of all bitch faces.  
        "You see this picture right here?" Mr. Cooper asked, pointing up behind him towards a black and white photo of a man in front of a ferris wheel. "That's my daddy."  
        "You look just like him." Sam replied warmly. And he did, he looked exactly like his dad, it was unsettling.   
        "Ran a freakshow, until they outlawed them most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts, always has been, for folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you three... Should go to school, find your lovers, have 2.5 kids, live regular." He finished, emphasizing his last word.  
        "Sir.." Sam began, leaning forward in his horrid chair. "We don't want to go to school, and we don't want regular. We want this."   
        It took a while, but Mr. Cooper finally caved, assigning the three of you as a mix of janitors and guards. He seemed hesitant to give you the job, but both Dean and Sam reassured him that you could knock heads together when needed. As you left the trailer, you headed towards Bullet, leaving the boys alone momentarily so that you could prep some supplies.  
        "Here you go, sweetheart." Dean said from the hood of your car, tossing you a red crew jacket.   
        "Thanks." You mumbled pulling it on and zipping it up partially so that you could hide your EMF reader. After sliding the ear piece to the reader in your ear, you caught Dean looking at you. You did a 360 and looked at him. "Do I look good or what?" You asked sarcastically.  
        "No complaints from me." Dean grunted, pulling on his own jacket and retreating to the carnival. You followed after him, making sure to stay near both him and Sam in case anything happened.  
        You walked alongside Dean, picking up trash and putting it in your garbage bag. Every once and a while Dean would 'accidently' brush his hand along your ass. You kept threatening to take off his hand, but mentally you enjoyed the contact. You enjoyed Dean in general. You had missed him the past five years way more than you let on.   
        You were emptying your garbage bags when Dean got a phone call.  
        "Hello?" Pause. "What's the matter? You sound like you just saw a clown." Pause. "Like a real human skeleton?" Pause. "Did the bones give off EMF?" Pause. "We should check it out anyway. We're heading for you."  
        You gave Dean a concerned look before you turned and started to head for Sam. You stopped when your arm was jerked on and you turned to see none other than Barry, the blind man.  
        "What are you two doing here?" He asked you, his voice getting Dean's attention.   
        "Just sweeping." You answered, smiling with sass dripping from your words.  
        "Bull. And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?" He turned and directed his questioning towards Dean.  
        "Dude, your blind-man hearing is out of control." Dean replied.  
        "We're a tight-knit group. We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems."  
        "We got a problem?" Dean asked, raising his arms. You huffed in annoyance and pulled your arm from the man's grip.  
        "You tell me." Barry answered Dean. "You're the ones talking about human bones."  
        "Do you believe in ghosts?" Dean asked.  
        "What?"   
        "My brother, Y/N and I. We're writing a book about them." Dean answered. Barry looked uninterested and the two of you said goodbye, making your way towards Sam.  
        "What took you guys so long?" Sam asked as you neared him.  
        "Long story." You mumbled. Dean nodding in agreement.  
        "Mommy! Look at the clown!" You heard a girl yell. You looked over and saw a family, the mom looking towards where the little girl was pointing in confusion.  
        "What clown?" The mom asked.  
        "He disappeared!" The girl shouted, disappointed.  
        "Come on, sweetie, come on."   
       "Car. Now." You ordered the boys, stripping from your jacket and jogging towards Bullet.   
You needed to follow the family. Catch the little shit in the act. Gank him, and then have some celebratory drinks.  
You waited for the Winchesters for what felt like hours.  
          
  After driving for a while the family arrived at their home, a single story house with a small yard. Tailing them hadn't been as difficult as Dean made it out to be. Three car lengths back, not too close but not too far. Also inconspicuous seeing as how dark it had gotten towards the middle of your drive.   
        "Dean, I can not believe you told Papasian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam started from the backseat. The boys had taken their time getting to Bullet back at the carnival. Speaking to workers and other people was apparently also of importance. You shrugged it off and reassured yourself that the boys knew what they were doing.   
        "I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown." Dean answered, getting a shot gun prepped.  
        "Hey, keep it down, Winchester." You ordered, nudging the gun below window sight.  
        "Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brothers Circus in '81 and their evil clown apocalypse. Guess what?" He added.  
        "What?" You and Sam asked forcefully.  
        "Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for the Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."  
        "Shit." You murmured.   
        "Shit indeed." Dean cooed.   
        "So you think Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked his brother.  
        "Something like that." Dean answered, shrugging.  
        "Or, what if Cooper is more directly linked? What if it's him somehow? We can't omit the fact that he was involved with the Bunker Brothers and now Cooper Carnival. What if he's doing it?" You watched as the boys thought your idea over, but soon they shrugged it off. "If I'm right, you both owe me a damn beer." You grumbled.  
        "I just can't believe we keep talking about clowns." Dean replied, and the car went into a deep silence while the three of you watched the house.   
                                                                                                -------------------------------------------  
        "Dean, Ariane. Wake up." Sam ordered, shaking you out of your sleep. Hours must have passed since Sam took watch because it was completely pitch black outside. You rubbed your eyes of the grogginess that you felt and took in your surroundings. The smell of Dean overpowered your nose and you were shocked to find that you were leaning against his chest, cuddled into him.   
        "Mornin' sweetheart." He chuckled, readjusting himself so he could see in the house. You ignored him and scrambled up, peering through the window and towards the house as well. The light to the main room was on and the little girl was walking across the room. "Well, let's go. You got your knife and pistol, Y/N?"   
        "Check and check." You replied, your heartbeat hammering against your chest. Fucking clowns. Sam gave your shoulder a squeeze before hopping out of the back, waiting for you and Dean. As you opened the door and stepped outside, you were met with the brisk air. It felt great on your warm face.   
        Dean neared the house first, pausing and picking the lock to the front door. You quickly followed the brothers to a hallway that seemed to lead off and branch out into miscellaneous rooms, most likely bedrooms. Sam took shelter on one side of the hall, you and Dean on the other.   
        You heard the jangling of the bells first and your breathing hitched in your throat.   
        Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck; you thought to yourself over and over.   
        "They're upstairs." You heard the girl whisper, and soon the clown and the child were in the hallway. It took all of your power not to hightail it out of there.   
        "HEY!" Sam shouted, jumping out from his position. Dean followed shortly after and shot two rounds into the clown's stomach. To your disappointment, the son of a bitch quickly sat up after being laid out for roughly fifteen damn seconds. The little girl was screaming and you quickly rushed over to her and embraced her.  
        "Hey, shhh. You're okay." You cooed, trying your best to calm her down.  
        "Sam! Watch out!" Dean called.  
        You watched as the clown got up and shattered the glass to a backdoor, quickly flying out.  
        "What's going on?!" You heard a man's voice shout. Her parents were up now. "Hey, get away from my kid!" The dad shouted through the mother's hysterics.   
        "Mommy, daddy! They shot my clown!" You could hardly hear the parent's reply as Dean and Sam towed you out of the house and towards Bullet.  
        "Keys." Dean ordered, waiting by the driver's side. You didn't hesitate to toss them over, clambering into the passenger side.   
        The sun had risen and Dean parked Bullet in some bushes. You felt your heart clatter to the pit of my stomach and diverted your eyes. You didn't want to leave your car, but you didn't have much of a choice.  
        "Hey, we'll come get your car in a few days, okay?" Sam reassured you while Dean got all of your supplies in bags and sorted.  
        "You really think they saw the plates?" You asked, watching Dean destruct the license plates you had grown so accustomed to.  
        "We can't really take the chance, sweetheart." Dean answered. You hadn't noticed how much of a liking you had taken to your new nickname, but it didn't matter now. You were leaving behind a piece of your own pride and joy for the time being. It felt wrong.  
        After a while of walking in the heat with bags full of guns, ammo, and knives you started feeling sad.   
        "Well, one thing's for sure." Dean announced as he took lead in the middle.  
        "What's that?" Sam asked.  
        "We're not dealing with a spirit. That rock salt hit something solid."  
        "A person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam suggested.  
        "Yeah, and dresses up as a clown for kicks? I still have money on Cooper." You replied matter-of-factly.  
        "Did it say anything in dad's journal?" Dean asked Sam.  
        "Nope." Sam answered, fishing out his phone and dialing someone.  
        "Who you callin'?" You asked.  
        "Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash will know something. Hey, Dean, you think uh-- You think Ellen and dad ever had a thing?"  
        "No way, man."  
        "Then why didn't he tell us about her?"   
        "No idea. Maybe they had some sort of falling-out."  
        "Yeah... You ever notice dad had a falling-out with just about everybody?" Dean didn't reply and you could feel the conversation heading somewhere it shouldn't go. "Don't get all Maudlin on me, man." Sam said, closing his phone.  
        "What do you mean?" Dean asked innocently.  
        "I mean this strong, silent thing of yours. It's crap, I'm over it." Yep, definitely a conversation that shouldn't be happening when you are hunting a damn murderous ghost clown. "This isn't just anyone we're talking about. This is dad. I know how you felt about the man." You shook your head in disapproval at Sam.  
        "Back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want--"  
        "No no no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it, man!"  
        "Guys, c'mon. Stop." You tried to interject.  
        "I'm your brother, all right?" Sam continued, ignoring your obvious discomfort towards the whole conversation. "I just want to make sure you're okay."  
        "Dude! I'm okay! I'm okay! I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm going to start throwin' punches! These are your issues. Quit dumping them on me." You were all stopped, standing in the middle of the road. The boys having some sort of showdown.   
        "What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused.  
        "I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to dad. It's like, 'Oh, what would dad want me to do?' Sam you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man! I mean, hell, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him, and now that he's dead-- Now you want to make it right?! Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little too late."   
        "That's enough! Holy shit. He wouldn't want us arguing in the middle of the fucking road, in the middle of a fucking hunt right now!" You shouted, stalking ahead of the boys.  
        "I want you to be honest with yourself about this!" You heard Dean yelling again as you walked further up the road. "I'm dealing with dad's death! Are you?!" The words echoed in the scenery around you. The trees soaking in the vibrations of Dean's voice like water. You sat on the side of the road, waiting for the boys to catch up.   
        As their figures got closer, you could see Sam on the phone again and Dean chewing his fingernails.   
        "That's a damn bad habit, you know." You scolded him as he chewed the next one, giving you his free hand and helping you up.  
        "So's hunting monsters, but we do that." He countered, looking at you apologetically. "I'm sorry about back there."   
        "Let's just not even talk about it right now, okay?" He nodded in agreement and the two of you waited for Sam to get off of the phone.  
        He finally did after a few minutes.   
        "Rakshasa." He announced.   
        "The hell's that?" You asked.   
        "Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited to." Sam explained as you began walking down the straight road again.  
        "They dress up like clowns, and children invite them in." Dean finalized. "Why don't they just munch on the kids?"   
        "No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?" You cringed at Sam's taboo suggestion. The thought made you want to dry heave.   
        "What else you find out?" Dean asked.  
        "Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects. They also have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess."   
        "That makes sense-- the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81." Dean replied, focusing on the road in front of you, not eyeing Sam at all.  
        "Probably more before that."  
        "And who's worked both shows, boys? Cooper. I'm right, again." You smiled at your victory, skipping ahead and twirling around.   
        "Picture of his father did look just like him. Could have been him. Yeah, yeah. You'll get your beers after the case." Sam mumbled, clearly upset with their loss.   
        "Ellen say how to gank him?" Dean asked, raising his brows.  
        "Legend goes, dagger made of pure brass."  
        "I think I know where to get one of those." Dean replied.  
        "Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're gonna want to make damn sure it's him." Sam noted.   
        "You're such a stickler for details, Sammy." Dean joked, grabbing your hands and pulling you back. "You win the beers after we get evidence." You stuck your tongue out at Dean before returning to walking in the middle of the boys, eyes forward and brain rushing with the feeling of Dean's hands on your own.   
        Gosh, you needed to clear your head of him, otherwise you wouldn't be able to stay with the boys.   
        "Okay, I'll round up the blade with Ariane, you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs." Dean ordered Sam. you surprisingly didn't feel scared, instead you felt full of adrenaline and excited.

\------------------------------------------

        You got to the carnival at nightfall. You and Dean approached Barry, the blind man, to ask if he had any brass knives.  
        "Check that chest over there." Barry ordered as you entered the office. Dean stayed outside to keep watch.  
        You opened the chest and sifted through outfits. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you came across the clown costume.  
        "You?" You asked, your voice faltering a bit. You turned in time to watch as Barry dropped his walking stick and took of his thick glassed.  
        "Me." He grinned, his eyes changing to bright green and his face stretching to unimaginable lengths.  
        "Shit." You wheezed as the figure in front of you disappeared. You scrambled to open the door, but jumped when a knife whirled past you and sunk into the door. Within seconds another flew by, nicking a good portion of your cheek as it flew. "FUCK." You screeched, kicking open the door and running into Dean. "GO." You yelled. To your surprise, he followed you.           
        After a minute of running, you ran into Sam.  
        "Hey!" Sam yelled, grabbing you and pulling you back. The flight instinct inside of you died down and you took deep breaths. "So, Cooper thinks I'm a peeping tom, but it's not him. I'm assuming you know, considering the fact that you're bleeding." Sam looked at you concerned.  
        "Yeah. It's Barry, the blind guy. He's somewhere around here." You replied, your eyes frantically scanning the carnival as your heartbeat picked up again.  
        "Well, did you get the--"  
        "The brass blades? Nope." You answered.  
        "It's just been one of those days." Dean replied.  
        "I got an idea, come on." You followed Sam into the house of mirrors and other creepy things. You grabbed Dean's hand out of instinct. He looked at you in confusion, but didn't insist on you letting go. Instead, he held your hand and squeezed it in reassurance that you surely needed.   
        You followed Sam, but quickly lost him behind some sort of black trap door.  
        "Sam!" You and Dean shouted in unison.   
        "Dean! Y/N! Find the maze, okay?"   
        Dean and you turned around and walked straight ahead, in search of the maze. His grip on your hand tightened as you went on. You could feel your body shaking. Haunted houses and stuff weren't your thing. Sounds weird coming from a hunter, but haunted houses and clowns just didn't sit right with you at all.  
        "Hey!" Dean called out to Sam who was now in front of you.  
        "Hey. Where is it?"   
        "We have no idea." You answered, taking in your surroundings. You watched as Sam kept trying to pry a brass bar from a machine in the walls, it was hot and he had his sleeve around it.  
        "Shouldn't we see his clothes walking around?" Dean asked, letting go of your hand and raising his in bewilderment. You heard a whizzing noise and watched as two knives stuck through Dean's jacket and into the wall, trapping him. "Shit!" He yelled.  
        "Y/N, where is it?!" Sam shouted, finally freeing the brass bar he was trying to break off and dodging another knife.  
        "I don't know!" You yelled, rushing over to Dean and trying to free him from the throwing knives.   
        "Y/N, the latch!" Dean shouted over the music, you turned your head and saw the steam latch, quickly pulling it.   
        You turned back and watched the steam fill the room, Sam stood in the middle and you saw the figure behind him before he did.  
        "Sam, behind you!" You shrieked, finally prying one of the knives free from Dean's clothes. You watched as Sam turned and sunk the brass bar in the gut of the monster, a hideous scream erupting from it's throat as it fell to the ground.  
        You finally yanked all of the knives out of Dean's shirt and the wall. The two of you walked up to Sam and looked down, a pile of clothes on the floor with a brass bar, no sign of a murder.   
        "I hate fun houses." You griped, making your way towards the exit.

\---------------------------------------

        You all pulled into Harvelle's Roadhouse early in the morning, Dean driving the truck you hot-wired. Ellen brought you all beers as you sat on the bar stools.  
        "You guys did a great job. Your parents would be proud." She smiled at all of you while she praised you, setting your drinks down in front of you.   
        "You up for pool, Sammy?" You mocked, prancing over to the pool table and picking up a stick.   
        "Sure, sure." Sam groaned, standing up and stalking his way over to the table as well. You saw Jo hitting on Dean, and jealousy rose in you. You glared their way before turning and seeing that Sam was waiting on you to take your shot. He looked over at Dean and then back at you, with his usual bitch face. You let out a huge sigh, aiming and sinking two of your stripes in their pockets.  
        "There's no way!" Sam shouted, causing Dean to look over.   
        "Sweetheart can play pool, too?" Dean asked, amazed. You blushed at his comment and felt victory in your chest as Jo looked at you with anger.   
        "Sweetheart can also repair cars." You cooed, taking aim again and sinking another stripe. The bar door burst open and Ash stepped in.  
        "Where you guys been?! I been waiting on you." He announced, you smiled at him and sauntered over to the table.  
        "We were working a job, Ash. Clowns?" Sam answered.  
        "Clowns?" Ash asked in confusion. "What the--"  
        "You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked, getting up and sitting next to you. Ash laid out an odd looking laptop in front of you, Sam on his other side.  
        "It's nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."   
        "What do you mean?" Sam asked.  
        "I mean any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm." You looked at Ash's screen and your jaw dropped. It was high tech shit.   
        "Ash, where the hell did you learn to do all of this?" You asked.  
        "M.I.T., before I got bounced for fighting."  
        "M.I.T.?" Sam asked, impressed.  
        "Ooookay, well give us a call as soon as you get something?" You asked, eager to wrap it up so we could return to Bobby's salvage yard and get some actual shut eye.  
        "Sí, sí, compadre." Ash replied. You hopped out of your seat and stretched, enjoying the way that Dean's eyes scanned over you. You acted like you didn't see and sauntered over to the door, waiting for the boys.  
        "Hey, listen." Ellen said from the counter. "If you three ever need a place to stay, I got a couple beds out back."  
        "Thanks, but no. There's something we got to finish." Dean answered, turning and hopping outside. You followed after him with Sam, still eager to return to the salvage yard and finish working on Baby. It had been a long time since you'd ridden in the Impala.

\---------------------------------------

        You were back at the salvage yard and Dean worked on Baby's tires while you cleaned out the leather on the inside. Sam walked up to you, looking at Dean and looking guilty. You acted like you were invested in the leather as you continued to clean.  
        "You were right." Sam whispered to Dean. You were hoping they'd both apologize and be done with the damn bickering.  
        "About what?"   
        "About me and dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him, I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him. So, you're right. What I'm doing right now-- It is too little. It's too late. I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right... Not at all.. But neither are you. That much I know. I'll let you get back to work."   
        You worked your way out of the interior of the car and made your way over to the tool box, trading your rag in for a wrench. The tires needed help. The crash of glass made you about jump out of your skin. You turned around and saw Dean standing with a huge iron, beating into the Impala mercilessly. You waited and waited until he finally dropped the iron and took a few deep breaths, before walking over to where he stood. He looked completely drained and broken.  
        "Hey. Hey, look at me." You said, walking up to him slowly. He met your gaze and his eyes filled with tears he wouldn't let spill. "Come here." You held your arms out and were satisfied with the way Dean seemed to collapse into them.   
        "Take a deep breath. You're fine." You rubbed his back and let yourself melt into him. It wasn't often that anyone got to see Dean like this, and you weren't going to let his vulnerability drift by in silence. You lent him all the strength you had in you before pulling away and going back to work on Baby in silence. 

Dean Winchester had just let you in a little bit.


	6. Bloodlust

"Woohoo!" Dean shouted from the driver's seat. Fixing Baby had taken a while, but we got it done. The impala was good as new, the sleek black exterior mirroring the green scenery as we flitted down the road.   
        "Told you I'm a damned good mechanic." You mumbled, re-positioning yourself in the leather backseat.   
        "Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" You watched Dean's face light up as he spoke.   
        "It is pretty damn lovely." you giggled, elbowing Dean in the shoulder. He feigned pain but kept his eyes on the road.   
        "You know, if you two want to get a room, just let Y/N and I know, Dean." Sam joked, his face lifting into a smile. Things had been silent between the two brothers for a while back at Bobby's. You felt weight being lifted off your shoulders a bit, and took a deep breath, burning this memory into your mind.   
        "Don't listen to him, Baby. They don't understand us." Dean replied, rubbing the leather of his seat. You scoffed and looked at Sam.  
        "You're in a good mood."   
        "Why shouldn't I be?" Dean asked the younger Winchester. You let your eyes wander around the car, taking in the beauty of the interior. You hadn't seen it in a while, a long while, let alone rode in it.   
        The smell of it was intoxicating, it smelt heavily of Dean; leather, whiskey, gun powder, the whole nine yards.  
        "I got my car, I got a case; thing's are looking up!" Dean continued, sneaking a glance at you through the rear view mirror. "And now we have Y/N! It's the life, Sammy. It's the life."   
        "You hear of a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows, and you're Mr. Sunshine." You joked, earning a hearty chuckle from Dean. "How far to Red Lodge, Sam?" You asked, turning your head and resting it on Sam's shoulder.  
        "Uh, about 300 miles?" He answered, ruffling your hair.  
        "Good." Dean replied, pressing harder on the gas and revving the engine to life. The roar was beautifully deafening, and he turned the volume of the car radio up, just in time for the first verse of Back In Black to blast through the speakers.   
        "Fuck yes!" You yelled before singing along to the song. Dean looked blown away for a while, he must not have taken you for an AC/DC girl, you smirked at the thought but gave Dean a reassuring wink, soon the look on his face faded into one of pure joy and he was singing along with you. Sam watched the two of you, smiling from ear to ear at your off key singing, and you were thankful for the 300 miles you had left.

\--------------------------------  
        "You sure you're okay with waiting for us out here?" Sam asked you. The boys were in suits and getting prepared for the whole journalist facade they had going.   
        "Yeah, I'm fine! Go ahead. I'll wait and get myself acquainted with Baby." You answered, "Besides, I am going to go through that lore book you have, jot down some notes. Just knock when you're back."   
        The boys smiled at you before setting off for the police station. Dean had thankfully left Baby running, the gift of the air conditioner was lovely as you waited. You couldn't locate Sam's lore book, so you took it upon myself to play Dean's AC/DC tape, singing along mercilessly as the tape went.   
        The knock on the window about scared the hell out of you. You peered through to see Sam waiting, Dean walking around the front of Baby to get to the driver's seat. You hopped into the back and allowed the boys in.  
        "Any luck?" You asked as they took their seats.   
        "Nope." Sam popped the P and let out a long breath.   
        "Unless you call getting kicked out, luck." Dean added, quickly putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the parking lot.   
        "So, where to now?" You questioned, resting your head in between their larger figures.   
        "The hospital. See if we can't find anything there." Sam answered.   
        "Does this mean I get to go?"   
        "Mhm."   
        "Finally." You breathed, pulling your hair up and into a bun.  
        -----------------------------------------  
        "These hospital clothes are itchy." You complained, readjusting the large white coat to a position more comfortable.   
        "Quiet, sweetheart. We don't need to get kicked out twice." Dean scolded you, turning down a hallway with you and Sam on his tail. You stopped at a room and Dean stepped in.   
        A man sat at a desk in the center of the room, his face confused as the three of you entered. Dean looked at his name tag while Sam and you waited to see what mess he was going to get you jammed in to.   
        "John." Dean began.  
        "Jeff." The man corrected, standing up and shaking Dean's calloused hand.  
        "Jeff, I knew that." Dean replied, smiling big. "Dr. Dorkin needs to see you in his office right away."  
        "But Dr. Dorkin's on vacation." Jeff replied, looking skeptical.   
        "Well he's back, and he's pissed, and he's screaming for you. So, if I were you, I would--" Dean's voice went from friendly to serious in seconds, Jeff's face quickly went white and concerned.   
        "Okay." He whispered, practically running out of the room.   
        You burst out into fits of laughter when he left, rubbing the stray tears away and taking a deep breath. The boys stood there looking at you, waiting for you to contain yourself.   
        "Let's get to work!" You shouted, running towards the room where the bodies were stored.  
        "Those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean asked Sam.  
        "Yeah, reverse pentacle on the forehead." Sam answered, taking a pair of gloves from Dean.   
        "Gross." You added, taking your own pair and situating them on your small hands.  
        "So much fucked up crap happens in Florida." Dean replied, pulling on his own gloves and standing in front of the holding cabinets in the wall of the florescent lit room. Sam pulled the needed cabinet and as the metal and body slid out, we were met with the white box.   
        "Okay, open it." Dean ordered Sam.  
        "You open it!" Sam replied.   
        "Wusses." You stepped in between them and lifted the white box, bringing it to the metal cart in the middle of the room. You took a deep breath and opened it, immediately regretting your decision. "Okay, that's fucked up." You added, trying your best not to puke up your breakfast. A woman's head lay in the box, her skin a shade of grey. The boys stepped up to you on either side, breathing through their disgust at the severed head.   
        "Well, no pentagram." Dean observed, taking in another deep breath.  
        "Wow, poor girl." Sam added, his nostrils were flared and he was also trying his best not to leave the room.  
        "Maybe we should, uh, look in her mouth." Dean suggested with clear regret. "See if this wacko stuffed anything down her throat, you know, kinda like the moth in Silence Of The Lambs."   
        "Yeah, you go ahead." Sam replied, nudging the box towards Dean.  
        "Not it. Here you go Y/N." Dean responded, nudging the box towards you.   
        "Hey now, I did the first dirty job. This one's on one of you." You took a big step back and watched Sam exhale, shaking his head and going to work on the dead girl's mouth. "Dean, get me a bucket."   
        "Find something?" You asked, undoing your actions and stepping up to Sam's vacant side.   
        "No, I'm going to puke." Sam answered, pulling his hands from the girl's mouth as Dean inched closer.   
        "All right, pull her lip up again." Dean ordered his brother.  
        "What?" Sam asked in disbelief. "You want me to throw up, is that it?"   
        "No, no, no. I thought I saw something." Dean replied, lifting the head's upper lip up. You watched in disgust as the pale gums came into view. "Gah.." Dean mumbled, pulling the lip back further.   
        "Is that a hole?" You asked, nudging your head closer to Dean's, assessing the weird dent in the woman's gums.  
        Dean pressed close to it and out came a gnarly fang.   
        "No, it's a tooth." Sam answered.   
        "Sam, that's a fang." Dean corrected, dropping the lip and standing straight as you did. "Retractable set of vampire fangs. You've got to be kidding me."  
        "Well, this changes things." Sam replied.   
        "You think?" Dean scoffed. You made your way out of the hospital quickly, peeling off the lab coats and jogging over to Baby.   
        "So, we have a hunt." You assessed, sliding into the back seat.   
        "We have a hunt." Dean confirmed, starting the car.  
\---------------------------------------  
        It was dark as you pulled up to the bar.  
        "If we're missing out on information about these bloodsuckers, this is where we will get it." Dean mumbled, pulling into a vacant parking spot. You all piled out of the car and into the full bar.   
        "How's it going?" Dean asked the bartender.   
        "Living the dream. What can I get for you?" The bartender replied. He was tall and built, with blue eyes and scruff. Really attractive for a small town bartender, you thought to yourself.  
        "Three beers, please." You answered, stepping up to the counter.  
        "So, we're looking for some people." Sam announced as the burly man grabbed your beers.   
        "Sure, it's hard to be lonely." The bartender retorted, handing you your beers.  
        "Yeah, but, that's not what I meant." Sam replied, tossing a fifty dollar bill the bartender's way. He seemed to consider it before swiping the bill off of the counter and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. "Okay, great. So, these people would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink."  
        "Yeah, real night owls, you know. Sleep all day, party all night." Dean added, flashing a smile before taking a swig of his beer.  
        "Barker farm got leased out a couple of months ago-- Real winners. They've been in here a lot-- drinkers, noisy. I had to 86 them once or twice."  
        "Thanks." You flashed your best smile as you turned on your feet and headed out the door, beers in hand.  
        You walked down the alleyway in complete silence, Baby in our vision.   
        "Y/N, wait behind Baby." Dean whispered, handing you his and Sam's beers.   
        "What's going on?" You asked.   
        "Just do it. Don't come out until we say to." You listened to Dean's words and headed toward the sleek black car, settling behind it and watching as Sam and Dean hid behind a wall. Seconds later a dark man emerged from the shadows of the alleyway, your breathing caught in your throat as you watched him look your way, you prayed that he didn't see you and brought out your butterfly knife just in case.  
        Who were you kidding though? Your butterfly knife would do nothing against this guy, especially if he's the people-disposer you've been searching for. Thank god Sam and Dean were here, you'd quite possibly be dog food if they weren't. You watched as the man looked around, Dean and Sam took the opportunity and jumped out, seizing him and holding him against the alleyway wall.  
        They seemed to talk forever before the man lifted his arm towards his face. Your heart sped up, worry seeping into your pores. He exposed his upper gums to the boys and they lowered their knives in response. You exhaled and kept alert, sweeping your surroundings.   
        "Sweetheart, you can come out now!" Dean hollered. You jogged up to the boys and looked at the dark skinned man carefully.   
        "Gordon." The man announced, holding his hand out. You were hesitant, but you shook it, trying your best to force a smile.   
        "Y/N." You replied. "I see you've met my buddies Sam and Dean." You rose your eyebrows and motioned at your two friends.   
        "You mind showing and telling us what you're doing here?" Dean questioned Gordon, distrust evident in his facial features. Gordon nodded and led the three of you toward his bright red car.   
        "Sam and Dean Winchester. Y/N, as well. Though, you're not a Winchester." Your chest constricted at the remembrance of your family, but you shook the thoughts, paying attention as Gordon showed you his weaponry.   
        "Impressive." You whistled.   
        "Thanks. You know, I met your old man once--" He announced, facing the boys. "Hell of a guy, great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes, but, from what I hear, you guys fill them-- Great trackers, good in a tight spot."  
        "You seem to know a lot about our family." Dean replied dryly. He still hadn't come to complete terms with his dad's passing, and you knew that better than anyone but Sam. Watching him fall apart that day in the junkyard was proof of that.  
        "Word travels fast." Gordon replied. "You know how hunters talk."  
        "No, we don't."   
        "I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?" You watched Dean's jaw clench and you stepped forward, further examining the weapons that lay out in front of you.   
        "So, uh. So, those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" You asked, taking in the beautiful scythe in the middle of the weapon rack.  
        "Yep. Been here two weeks." Gordon answered.   
        "Did you check out that Barker farm?" Dean questioned.   
        "It's a bust." Gordon scoffed. "Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone."  
        "Where's the nest, then?"   
        "I got this one covered." Gordon answered, avoiding the question as he wheeled the weapon rack back into the car's interior. "Look, don't get me wrong. It's a pleasure meeting the three of you, but I've been on this thing for over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."   
        "We could help." Sam replied, trying to plead your case. You were itching for a hunt, and you honestly didn't trust this Gordon guy at all. He seemed off. Overwhelmingly so.  
        "Thanks, but, uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy."  
        "Well, man, I've been itching for a hunt. It's been a long while." You replied, stepping back towards Sam and Dean, smiling the whole time.  
        "Sorry. But, hey, I hear there's a chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out. It was real nice meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side." He retorted, sliding into his car and pulling away.  
        "I don't trust him." You told the boys as you stood in the darkness of the night and the rain.  
        "That's why we're going to follow him, sweetheart." Dean answered, already setting off for the impala. You and Sam followed as a lump formed in your stomach. You could feel that this wasn't going to go well. You just knew it.   
\---------------------------------------------  
        You all followed Gordon to a sawmill. The uncertainty and worry in your stomach was growing.   
        "Let's go." Sam ordered as you piled out. Dean handed you a very sharp machete before nabbing his own. Sam was armed with a small sword of sorts.   
        You were headed up the mill stairs when the sound of a very large saw echoed throughout the building.   
        "Shit." You mumbled, picking up your speed along with the boys.  
        You rushed along the balcony and froze when you saw a vampire overpowering Gordon. The only give that it was definitely a vampire was the fact that it had all of it's gnarly teeth bared, snarling all the while. Sam was quick on his feet, pulling Gordon out from under the saw while you and Dean turned to distract the vamp.   
        You grabbed a metal pole and hit the vampire's back with it as hard as you could muster. Dean took the opportunity and grabbed another metal pole, thrusting it through the vamp's abdomen. You stepped back and watched as Dean threw the vamp onto the saw belt, beating its face to a pulp, only stopping to thrust the saw blades through the blood sucker's neck, sawing its head clean off.   
        Once he was done, Dean turned to you, blood splattered on his face. He looked at you, his eyes flashing with concern once he saw your distaste towards the brutality of what he had just done. You don't know why it settled with you the way it did, but it did. You tried to recompose yourself, and as soon as you had, you peeled off your scarf, walking up to the older Winchester.   
        "It's okay." You mumbled as you wiped off the blood from his face. He made a weak attempt at a smile while you continued wiping his cheeks clean.   
        "So, uh, I guess I got to buy you that drink." Gordon spoke up from behind you.   
        "You think?" You asked, turning to face him before turning back to Dean and finishing your job.  
\------------------------------------  
        You all sat at a round table in the bar from earlier, the music in the background adding a certain finesse to your night. You watched the perspiration run down your beer mug, letting your eyes wander around the bar aimlessly. You saw the bartender from earlier and flashed him a smile, happy to retrieve one back.  
        The waitress came around to gather the glasses and Dean went to grab his wallet. Gordon quickly stopped him and assured all of you that this was his treat. Sure, he was being nice, but you still didn't trust the man. He seemed like a shitball. Harsh, you know, but there was just something about the way he composed himself. It didn't click right.  
        "Another one bites the dust." Gordon cheered, raising his shot glass towards Dean.  
        "That's right." Dean replied, happily clinking his glass against Gordon's. You looked toward Sam, and he looked at you with those same eyes. He didn't trust Gordon either. You gave him a nod before taking a swig of your beer, the cold liquid soothed the thirst within you.  
        "Dean-" Gordon started, "You gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend. That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful." He laughed. You shook your head at the comment, not feeling the humor in Gordon's voice. You gave Sam another sideways glance and saw that he again was wearing the same expression.  
        "Yep. You alright Sammy?" Dean asked Sam, sneaking a look towards him while he took a sip of beer. Sam looked at you and rolled his eyes, causing you to chuckle.  
        "Yeah, I'm fine." Sam answered.  
        "Well, lighten up a little, Sammy." Gordon added.  
        "He's the only one who gets to call me that. Aside from Y/N." Sam warned.  
        "Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little- job well done." Gordon explained, attempting to correct his wrong.  
        "Well, uhm, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess." You nodded a little at his explanation, earning a sideways glance from Dean.  
        "Oh, come on, man. It's not like it was human. You got to have a little more fun."   
        "See, that's what I've been trying to tell him." Dean added jokingly. You shook your head again and sent Sam an apologetic look. "You could learn a thing or two from this guy. The both of you." Dean finished, pointing towards you.   
        "I'm sure we could." You huffed, folding your arms across your chest, sending Dean a pissed off glare. "Look, I'm done. I'm not going to bring your guys' buzz down. I'm going back to the motel. You coming, Sam?"  
        "Yeah." Sam stepped up, putting an arm around your shoulders. Dean flashed with annoyance and what looked like a hint of jealousy before you walked towards the bar door.  
        "Sammy!" Dean called, tossing him the keys to the impala. "Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of the two of you later." You rolled your eyes before pulling Sam with you out of the bar.   
        "He's such an ass sometimes." You grunted as you climbed into the car.   
        "Yeah, trust me, I know." Sam replied, turning the keys into the ignition and setting off towards the motel The rest of the drive was spent in utter silence, but it was comfortable silence. Not forced.  
\--------------------------------------  
        You clambered into the small motel room, taking in the warmth it radiated in comparison to the cold night air outside. Before you could register your thoughts, you ran up to Sam, stopping him in his tracks and pulling him into a hug.   
        "Woah, what's this for?" He asked you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.  
        "For not being a dick." You replied, giggling. The hug lingered for a while before Sam pulled away partially, giving himself enough room to look at you. You stayed there for a while, just looking at each other. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek before looking into his eyes again, it looked like he was leaning in, but images of Dean flashed through your mind, and a sort of deep guilt washed over you. You pulled Sam into another quick hug before letting go, turning and walking into the bathroom. What just happened?   
        You felt the guilt bubbling in your chest as you washed your face. Frustration was pent up inside of you, not frustration at Sam, but at yourself.  
        After gathering the courage to leave the bathroom and face Sam again, you were happy. Your mind was set. You definitely had some undeclared feelings towards Dean, and they needed to be sorted through at some point.   
        "Who you calling?" You asked as you saw Sam on the phone, sitting on the bed.   
        "Ellen." He replied. You nodded and sat on the chair across from the bed. Running your brush through your hair as you listened in. "Hey, Ellen! Uh, Sam Winchester."   
        You inched closer to Sam, wondering why he was calling Ellen of all people right now.   
        "Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. Got a question. You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Pause. "And?" Pause. "Well, we ran into him on a job, and we're kind of working with him I guess." Pause. This pause was longer and Sam's face looked confused.  
        You stepped up and squeezed his shoulder, your heart hammering. Was something wrong? "I-I thought you said Gordon was a good hunter." Pause. "Ellen--" Pause. "Right. Okay." Sam shut his phone and turned towards you.  
        "What's wrong?" You asked timidly.  
        "Gordon. He's a good hunter, but Ellen said not to work with him, at all. She was pretty damn adamant about it."   
        "Shit." You breathed. "Well, that settles that. We'll tell Dean when he gets back."   
        Sam nodded at your words. "Hey, Y/N, about earlier--"  
        "Sam, let's just not right now, okay?" You stopped him, not wanting to think about it. He nodded again and got up.   
        "Where are you going?"  
        "Get a drink from the machine outside, wanna go?"   
        You shuffled to your shoes and pulled them on instead of answering him. He smiled and held the motel door open for you. You waltzed out and over to the soft drink machine, waiting for the tall man to catch up.   
        "You want anything?" He asked once he arrived.   
        "Nah, I'm good." You answered, leaning against the machine. Sam got his drink and sent you a smile, you shivered a bit and you both headed back to the motel room.   
        It would have been a brisk walk back, had the bushes behind you two not been rustling with every step you took. You gave Sam a worried glance as you came to a stop.   
        "Get to the motel room. Now." Sam whispered, shoving you forward.   
        "And leave you here? No." You argued, stepping back and grabbing his hand. Before you could argue, Sam picked you up and ran with you back to the room. "Little warning next time, Sammy." You joked, climbing out of his arms.  
        "Sorry. Adrenaline rush." He replied, taking a sip of his drink.  
        You both were settling down when men jumped out from the bathroom and the kitchen. They raised their arms and Sam immediately landed an uppercut to the face of the one nearest to him.   
        "Sam, behind you!" You shrieked, kicking out and tripping the man behind the young Winchester.   
        "Thanks." He huffed, and then there was someone behind him, before you could jump to stop the man behind Sam, your arms were constricted and you watched the man knock Sam out with the motel phone.  
        "No!" You yelled, instantly thrashing in the arms of your captor.   
        "Oh, no you don't." The hoarse voice replied from behind you. Another man walked in front of you, and you spat at him with all of the power you had.   
        "Night night." He told you, raising the phone and giving you a sickening blow to the head.   
        The room spun around you and you felt your consciousness slipping. The last word that escaped your throat was almost too slurred to make out.   
        "Dean..." you whimpered, and then you welcomed the blackness with opening arms.  
  The feeling of being jostled around woke you up. You could feel your eyes open, but you couldn't see. You would have thought you were blind had you not been able to feel the cool fabric against your head and face.   
        "S-Sam?" You asked the darkness.   
        "Here." His gruff voice replied.   
        "Where are we?"   
        "I don't know, Y/N. I don't know. They haven't killed us yet, though. I think they're taking us somewhere."   
        "Shut up." An unknown voice spoke up, causing you to jump. The man lifted your fabric and tied your mouths shut with bandannas, making sure he was quick about it. As soon as he was done he lowered the fabric sacks over your heads again.  
        You and Sam sat in silence for the rest of the ride. Your mind kept flooding with images of Dean. He was with Gordon, so he should be safe. Shouldn't he?  
        Before you knew it you both were taken from the car, to the outdoors, to some sort of house. There was shuffling and then you were sat into a chair, your hands tied to the armrests. You heard shuffling next to you, and felt Sam's thighs touching yours. You were immediately thankful that he was still here. You couldn't do this alone. But, you were also terrified. This meant you both may die. Sam didn't deserve it. You? You were not too sure about.  
        You listened to the beating of your heart and thought of Dean. Dean. The smell of the impala he cared about so much. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. How he smells of leather and whiskey all of the time.  
        The sound of the door opening pulled you from your thoughts. The footsteps led up beside you, you heard the sound of moving fabric and then Sam was taking deep breaths.   
         You started squirming in your seat.   
         You tried your best to calm down, but the panic rose again as you felt the fabric being pulled off of your head.   
         You nearly jumped out of your skin, looking at the burly bartender ahead of you. Your vision was still shaky and you stole a glimpse at Sam to make sure he was still breathing. To your luck, he was. You took a deep breath through your own bandanna before looking at the man in front of you in confusion. As if reading your thoughts he opened his mouth and bared his fangs at you, eliciting a nice low hiss to really set the mood. You wiggled in your seat again, trying to escape. Nothing. A few minutes later and you gave up, fatigue was starting to set in.   
        The bartender got closer to you, his teeth coming dangerously close to your neck. You squirmed to the best of your ability, Sam thrashed next to you, mumbling curses into the bandanna.   
        "Wait. Step back, Eli." A woman ordered. She was pretty, blue eyes and brown hair. Eli quickly complied, taking a step away from you reluctantly, sheathing his fangs.   
        "My name's Lenore. I'm not going to hurt either of you." She announced, making her way over to you, pulling out your bandanna, and then doing the same with Sam. You watched her in confusion. "We just need to talk." She added.   
        "Talk? Yeah, okay, but I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth." Sam replied, you nodded in agreement.           
        "I second that notion." You added, watching Eli the whole time.  
        "He won't hurt you either. You have my word." She answered, looking at the both of you kindly.  
        "Your word? Oh, yeah, great. Thanks. Lady, no offense, but you're not the first vampire I've met." Sam snorted sarcastically. You kicked him in the shin, earning a grunt. You smiled at Lenore and signaled with your head for her to continue.  
        "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans, and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time." Your bottom jaw gaped open at her words. The fuck was this?  
        "Is this some kind of joke?" Sam scoffed.  
        "Notice you're both still alive." Sam looked taken aback at her words, and in all honesty, you were too. This vampire was crazy.   
        "Okay, uh, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?" You asked in disbelief.   
        "Yeah, how are you alive?" Sam added.    
        "We found other ways-- cattle blood." Lenore answered, looking toward Eli.  
        "You're telling me you're responsible for all the--" Sam started.  
        "It's not ideal. In fact, it's disgusting. But, it allows us to get by."  
        "Okay, uh, why?"   
        "Survival." Lenore answered Sam matter-of-factly. It made sense to you, you turn into something that you don't want or agree with, and you dance on the outskirts of the rules; that or die trying. Completely logical. "No deaths, no missing locals. No reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. And we blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. It turns out, we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined."           
        "Why are we explaining ourselves to these killers?" Eli spat. You had to hold in a scoff and a half.   
        "Eli." Lenore warned.         
        "We choke on cow's blood so none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad and they celebrated."   
        "Eli, that's enough." She warned again, using an authoritative voice.  
        "Yeah, Eli, that's enough." Sam mocked.  
        "Shut up, Sam." You groaned, rolling your eyes at the huge man.  
        "What's done is done." Lenore added. "We're leaving this town tonight." She announced, looking between you and Sam.  
        "Then why did you bring us here? Why are you even talking to us?" Sam asked.  
        "Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind. Once you have the scent, you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us." Lenore reasoned, looking at you. She probably viewed you as the weak link.  
        "So, you're asking us not to follow you." You finished.  
        "We have a right to live, we're not hurting anyone."   
        "Right, so you keep saying. How about you give us one damn good reason to believe you." You replied.  
        "Fine." She answered, leaning into you, her hands on your thighs. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to let you go. Both of you. Take them back, Eli. Not a mark on them."  
        Eli nodded and re-gagged you both, making sure that your sacks were on tight. The men who were leading you were gentle as they helped you into the large car, most likely a truck judging by the way it roared as it started.   
        The drive didn't take long, and soon your sacks and bandannas were off and out. You looked at your motel in front of you and mumbled a thank you to Eli as you hopped out of the truck. Sam was already making his way towards the door.  
        "Sam?" You called, stopping him in his tracks.   
        "Yeah? Hey, are you okay?" He saw your sad face and paced up towards you, pulling you into his broad and warm chest for a hug.   
        "I just. We can't kill them. They were right. They're not doing anything wrong." You huffed, hugging him back. "We got to get Dean on our side."  
        "I know. So let's get him." Sam smiled and pulled you by your hand into the motel room.  
        Dean sat at the small table with Gordon, turning your way once the door opened.  His gaze dropped to your hands and  you let go of Sam quickly, not wanting Dean to mistake what was going on with something else.   
        "There you guys are." Dean breathed, standing up and pulling you into a warm hug. You squeezed him tight against you and giggled. "Where have you two been?" He asked, letting go of you and looking towards Sam.  
        "Can we talk to you? Alone?" Sam asked, looking at you reassuringly.   
        "You mind chilling out for a couple minutes?" Dean asked Gordon. Gordon shook his head, letting Dean know he'd be fine and you pretty much wheeled the older Winchester out the motel door.   
        "Woah, easy there sweetheart." Dean laughed, you turned and gave him a warning look as Sam trotted up to you.  
        "Dean, we got to rethink this hunt." You announced, looking at his eyes with hope.  
        "What are you talkin' about?" He asked in disbelief. "Where the hell were you guys?"   
        "In the nest..." You mumbled.   
        "You found it?!"  
        "They found us, man." Sam answered for you as you all trailed into the mostly empty parking lot of the motel.  
        "How did you guys get out? Are you okay?" Dean was facing you now and assessing your neck and arms, any of your exposed skin, really. "How many did you guys kill?"   
        "None." You answered, smiling.  
        "Ariane, they didn't just let you guys go."  
        "That's exactly what they did, Dean. Exactly." You answered again, pride oozing from your soul.  
        "All right... Well where is it?"   
        "We were blindfolded. We don't know." Sam answered, resting his hands on his hips.   
        "You guys got to know something." Dean chided you. You felt like a child being chastised by their mom.   
        "We went over that bridge outside of town, but we shouldn't go after them." Sam replied.  
        "Why not?"   
        "They're not like other vampires." You answered, leaning against Baby's hood. "They're not killing people." You shrugged.   
        "You're kidding me?"   
        "Nope." You said, popping the P.  
        "Then how do they stay alive? Or undead? Or whatever the hell they are."   
        "The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood."  
        "And you believe them?" Dean turned towards Sam now, disappointment prevalent on his face.   
        "Look at us Dean! They let us go without a single scratch." Sam answered, twirling you and raising his arms. You giggled at the gesture, but quickly scolded yourself back into seriousness under Dean's reprimanding gaze.  
        "Wait, so you're saying-- No man. No way. I don't know why they let you two go, I really don't care. We find them and we waste them."  
        "Why?" Sam shouted, tailing his brother as Dean tried to make an escape from your conversation.   
        "What part of vampires don't you two understand?! If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story. That's our job."  
        "No, Dean! That is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil." Sam retorted, waving his hands around angrily. Your own anger was starting to bubble up, but you did your damnedest not to let it overflow.   
        "Of course they're killing people. That's what they do! They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last damn one of them."   
        "No, Dean, I don't think so. Not this time, all right?"  
        "Gordon's been on those vamps for a year. He knows."  
        "You're taking his word for it?!" You shouted. The boys gave you a look of confusion at your anger, but you ignored it, raising your eyebrows and awaiting Dean's answer.   
        "That's right."   
        "Ellen says he's bad news." Sam added. You nodded your head and rubbed your nose, trying to alleviate the coming headache.   
        "You called Ellen? And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Sam. No thanks. I'll go with Gordon."   
        "Right? 'Cause Gordon's such an old friend. You don't think I can see what this is?"   
        "What are you talking about?" Dean asked, you let your hand fall and you looked at the boys, you were walking into uncharted territory again. This wasn't going to end well, just like when you were hunting the damn Rakshasa.   
        "He's a substitute for dad, isn't he? A poor one at that." Sam spat.   
        "Shut up, Sam." Dean replied, turning on his heel and heading for the motel again.   
        "He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day."  
        "You know what? I'm not even going to talk about it." Dean turned and raised his hands, trying to wave away the subject.   
        "You slap on this fake smile, but I can see right through it. I'm sure Y/N can, too. 'Cause I know how you feel, Dean!" Sam shouted. "Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it! But you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to!" You made your way towards the boys, your own attempt to diffuse the building angst.   
        "It's an insult to his memory." Sam spat again. You watched the emotions dance across Dean's face as you approached the men.   
        "Okay." Dean replied, turning and then striking his fist against Sam's face. Your jaw dropped and you rushed between them.   
        "What the fuck Dean?!" you yelled, shoving them apart.   
        "You hit me all you want. It won't change anything." Sam told Dean from your side.           
        "I'm going to that nest. With or without you guys. You won't tell me where it is? Fine. I'll find it myself."   
        "Dean." You called after him, following him into the motel room.  
        "Gordon?" Dean called as the three of you entered the old beaten up room.   
        "You think he went after them?" Sam asked as he came in.   
        "Probably." Dean replied coolly.   
        "Dean, we have to stop him." You breathed.   
        "Really, Y/N? 'Cause I say we lend him a damn hand."  
        "Just give us the fucking benefit of the doubt for a second, Dean. Could you do that for me? Jesus."  
        "Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive, Sammy, keys." Dean held his hand out expectantly. Sam went towards the tiny cactus key holder.   
        "He snaked the keys." Sam answered gruffly.  
        "Son of a bitch." Dean muttered, already heading out towards Baby. You grabbed your jacket and put it on before heading out towards the boys. Dean was in the driver's seat, hot wiring his pride and joy. You hopped into the back while Sam clambered into the front.   
        "I can't believe this. We just fixed her up, too." Dean groaned, right as the engine veered to life. "So, the bridge, is that all you got?" He asked his younger brother.   
        "The bridge was 4 1/2 minutes from their farm."  
        "How do you know?"   
        "I counted." Sam answered, and for the first time since you two took the SAT's, you were glad Sam had a  genius' brain. "Turned left from the farm, then right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly uphill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge." You watched Sam's fingers dance along the map.   
        "Impressive." You mumbled from over his shoulder.   
        "Thanks." He smiled.   
        The drive was spent in silence, aside from Sam's occasional directions for Dean.  
        "There's his car." You spoke up, looking towards the farm house. The red car was right outside. Dean pulled in quickly and you all burst through the house, stopping as you saw Gordon hunched over Lenore.   
        "Sam, Dean, Sweetheart, come on in." Gordon called.   
        "Only I can call her that." Dean growled. "What's going on?"  
        "Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's gonna tell us where all her friends are, aren't you Lenore? Want to help?"  
        "Look, man--" Dean started, stepping ahead of you and towards the table of supplies.   
        "Grab a knife." Gordon instructed. "I was just about to start in on the fingers." Gordon ran the blade across Lenore's arm, the dead man's blood leaving a trail on her skin. You watched the veins come to life under it, screaming in protest.   
        "Stop." You ordered, stepping up.   
        "Let's all just chill out, huh?" Dean added, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him defensively.   
        "I'm completely chill." Gordon responded.   
        "Then put the damn knife down." You spat.   
        "It sounds like it's Sweetheart here that needs to chill." Your blood boiled at him using Dean's nickname for you again. You wanted to beat the man to a pulp, but Dean's large frame was blocking you from getting any closer.  
        "Just step away from her, all right?" Sam instructed, watching as Gordon debated his orders.  
        "You're right." He replied, tossing the dagger onto the table. "I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk." He lifted up a machete, tracing the outlines with his eyes. "Might as well put her out of her misery. I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."  
        "Gordon, I'm letting her go." Sam ordered, stepping up towards the tied up Lenore.   
        "You're not doing a damn thing." Gordon sneered, pointing the machete at Sam.  
        "Hey, hey." Dean growled, tip toeing towards Gordon. The man was unstable, and that's you putting things lightly. You watched Dean and Gordon carefully. "Gordon, let's talk about this."   
        "What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean-- No shades of gray."   
        "Yeah, I hear you. And I know how you feel."   
        "Do you?!" Gordon asked in anger.  
        "The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this--"  
        Dean was cut off by Gordon laughing. Such a sad excuse of a man.  
        "Killed my sister..." He chuckled. "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister, it turned her, made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself." Your jaw locked at his words and you clenched your fists tight at your sides.   
        "You did what?" Dean asked in disbelief.   
        "It wasn't my sister anymore. It wasn't human. I didn't blink, and neither would you."   
        "So you knew all along then." Sam interjected. You watched him cautiously, praying he wouldn't get himself killed as Gordon positioned the machete again towards Sam's towering frame. "You knew the vampires weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle, and you just didn't care."   
        "Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people, and we're supposed to buy that? Trust me, it doesn't change who they are. Doesn't change what they are." Gordon stepped away from Sam and you about ran over, pulling Sam back. Dean watched you from the corner of his eyes carefully, not wanting to screw up if something happened.   
        "And I can prove it." He added, turning fast and gripping your wrist. Dean and Sam's faces contorted into sheer fear. With a quick quip of his wrist, Gordon nicked your wrist, blood pooling out immediately. You hissed at the sudden sting as Dean cocked his pistol.   
        "You let her go, right now." The older Winchester growled, giving Gordon the death glare. "NOW!" Dean shouted when he saw that Gordon wasn't letting you go. Fear bubbled up into your chest as your arm was inched over Lenore's face.   
        "Relax." Gordon breathed, looking at Dean. "If I wanted to kill her, she'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point."   
        The blood tilted down your wrist and with a slight angle adjustment from Gordon, it trickled down onto Lenore's face. She let out agonizing whimpers and then changed. She was one of the vampires you all hated so much. You winced at the pain in your arm as Gordon tried to force out more blood, and you winced at the scene of a vampire below you. Her fangs were bared and her snarls that elicited from her throat were blood curdling.   
        "Hey!" Dean yelled, grabbing both yours and Gordon's attention.  
        "Think she's so different? Still want to save her?" He asked Dean, still angling your arm over the writhing vampire. "Look at her." Dean did as told and looked at the vampire under you.   
        "They're all the same-- evil, bloodthirsty." In a split second Lenore retracted her fangs, taking a deep breath and trying to recompose herself.   
        "No." She huffed. "No."   
        "You hear her Gordon?" You mumbled, feeling just a tad bit light headed from the fear. You shoved Gordon's hands off of yourself. "We're done here. Sam, get her out of here." Sam listened to you, padding over and lifting Lenore up with ease, taking her god knows where. You felt Gordon move from behind you.  
        "Unh-unh. Unh-unh." Dean ordered, pointing the pistol again at Gordon. "Come here, sweetheart." He whispered to you. His calling to you was like a drug, you followed the source of the voice mercilessly. Clinging to Dean and letting go once you were at his side. "Gordon, I think you and I got some things to talk about. Y/N, why don't you take some of these knives out to Baby? Wait for Sam to get back." You nodded and grabbed the machete and dagger, along with the bottle of dead man's blood and a few other knives.   
        You stopped before leaving the house, looking at Gordon.   
        "You were wrong. Very fucking wrong." You whispered, closing the door behind you.   
        The weapons were all secured in the back of the impala when you heard a crash from inside. You grabbed one of the bats from the back and ran towards the house, easily tossing the door open.   
        "Dean?!" You yelled, readying your bat. You walked into the room and watched Dean deliver a beautiful punch to Gordon's face, easily capturing him under his arm.   
        "Hey sweetheart." He breathed to you, taking in your presence. He wheeled Gordon into the next room, stopping to whack the man's head on a wall. "Oh, sorry." He mumbled. You laughed a bit before following behind him.  
        "Here you go." You tossed Dean a rope, taking your own seat across from Gordon. Watching Dean tie the man up was beautiful, his hands moved swiftly and he clearly knew what he was doing.   
        "You know, I might be like you, I might not." He whispered to Gordon. "But you're the one tied up right now." 

\------------------------------------

        Dean paced around the room for the few hours you were there, huge dagger in hand. The morning sun was finally peering through the shutters and you smiled in delight. The front door opened and Sam stepped in, raising his eyebrows as he saw the damage dealt to the house and Gordon. Thankfully, Dean only had a few scrapes, but man, they were hot ones.   
        "I miss anything?" Sam asked.   
        "Eh, not much." You replied, standing up and stretching.   
        "Lenore get out okay?" Dean asked his brother.   
        "Yeah, all of them did."   
        "Then I guess our work here is done." Dean announced, smiling at you. "How are you doing Gordie? Got to tinkle yet?" He asked the crazed man sarcastically. No answer. "All right. Get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out and untie you."  
        "Ready to go, guys?" Sam asked, clearly exhausted.   
        "Not yet." Dean replied, stepping in front of Gordon. "I guess this is goodbye." He laughed, feigning heartbreak. "Well, it's-- it's been real."   
        He stopped his words and gave Gordon a mean uppercut, causing the chair to fall back. "That's for calling her sweetheart." He growled, sinking the dagger into the table next to him. "Okay," Dean looked towards you, "I'm good now. We can go." He winked at you, and your cheeks grew hot in response. You took a deep breath as you stepped up and gave him a kiss on the cheek, grabbing the bat and quickly hopping outside and towards the impala. You watched the men hop out of the house soon after while you sat on the hood of the impala.   
        "I won't even hit you back. Let's go." You watched Dean try and convince Sam to clock him one.   
        "No." Sam chuckled. "Dean, you look like you just went 12 rounds with a block of cement, I'll take a rain check." Sam approached the car with Dean on his tail. You watched the men through hooded eyes, your yearning for sleep was starting to catch up with you.           
        "I wish we never took this job. It jacked everything up." Dean mumbled, standing by the driver's door. You gave the boys some privacy and hummed to yourself, walking along the front yard of the house instead of waiting on the hood.   
        The sun felt good as you walked around. Its warmth seemed to pass from you into your soul. It felt absolutely amazing. You stopped walking and stretched, letting out a yawn. You hugged your arms close to your body and turned when you felt eyes on you. Your heartbeat picked up as you locked eyes with Dean. His profile was breathtaking in the morning sun, and he was watching you with a warm intensity. You settled on it being some sort of miscommunication as you walked back to Baby, swiftly sliding into the back.   
        "Here you go, sweetheart." Dean whispered, handing you his leather jacket. "Get some shut eye. It's a long drive."   
        "Thanks, Winchester." You mumbled, grabbing his jacket and jumbling it into a pillow shape.   
        Baby wasn't an ideal bed, but you'd take anything at that point. You drifted into sleep listening to Dean's off key rendition of Zeppelin's Stairway To Heaven.

The last thought that entered your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness was how content you were with your situation.


	7. Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

      Sam gave up on trying to convince Dean to slow down as you sped down another windy road.  
        "Come on, Sam. I'm begging you. This is stupid." Dean grumbled, tightening his grip on the steering wheel again. You continued tracing the patterns of the leather on the back of Dean's seat, humming along to the music playing from the radio.  
        "Why?" Sam asked.  
        "Going to visit mom's grave? She doesn't even have a grave. There was no body left after the fire." Dean argued. You knew Sam was right, and you think Dean knew it, too. You just think he didn't want to face the emotions that came with visiting his mom's headstone.   
        "She has a headstone." You pointed out, trying your hardest to support Sam.  
        "Yeah, put up by our uncle, a man Sam and I never even met. So, you want to go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger. Come on." Dean told Sam. He could be so stubborn at times.   
        "Dean, that's not the point."  
        "Then enlighten me, Sam."  
        "It's not about a body or a casket. It's about her memory, okay? And after dad, it just-- It just feels like the right thing to do."  
        "It's irrational is what it is."  
        "Look, man, no one asked you to come." Sam told his older brother. You saw Dean take offense to the statement, but he quickly recovered.  
        "Why don't we head to the roadhouse instead? We haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down."  
        "That's a good idea, you should. Both of you, if you want. Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you there tomorrow."  
        "Right." Dean scoffed. "Stuck with those people. Making awkward small talk until you show up. No thanks."   
        "Hey, I'd be there." You argued, thumping Dean's head. "But, I'm with Sam on this one. We should go see your mom's headstone."   
        Dean glared at you through the rear view mirror and you smiled in return. Sam smiled with you as Dean turned up the radio and continued down the road. 

\---------------------------------------  
        The cemetery was vacant. No one aside from the boys and you filled up the vast amount of space.   
        Dean stayed near the Impala, telling you and Sam to go ahead without him. And that's how you ended up where you are now. You stood next to Sam's crouching figure as he dug up a chunk of the earth.  
        "I think dad would have wanted you to have these." He told the headstone, settling John's dog-tags into the hole in the earth he had dug and then covering the hole with the chunk he had taken out. You crouched down next to the bulk of man. Sam was always the one okay with showing his emotions to the world, but you knew that deep down, Dean was the more sensitive of the two.  
        "I love you, mom." He added as his eyes filled with tears. You hung onto every word that escaped Sam's lips, savoring them and this moment. It was so important to him, and even though you never knew Mary, you knew that she would appreciate this. You knew that she wouldn't want Sam to blame himself for her death, even though he did.   
        He blamed himself every damn day, and it ripped him apart. Couple that with the fact that Jess suffered nearly the same fate, and Sam was on the brink of chaos. He was hurting and he was hurting bad.  
        You grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. His lips curled up into a small but painful smile at the gesture as his tears fell. You appreciated that you could help alleviate some of the burden he carried.   
        "Sam, you're good. You're so good." You whispered.  
        "What do you mean?" He questioned.   
       "In general. You're a good man. I just wish you would realize that. You tear yourself down everyday and I've seen it, so don't tell me that it's not true or that you're fine, because you're not. It wasn't your fault, Sammy. She would agree with me." You explained, reaching out and wiping his tears away.  
        "Hey guys--" Dean walked over to you and stopped in his tracks, assessing the situation. He diverted his eyes to the ground and nodded his head in understanding with himself. You watched him, curious as to why he was acting so odd. "I, uh, I think I found something. Could be a case. I'm going to go talk to the coroner." He told the both of you, not meeting your eyes, and then he walked away.  
        "What's with him?" You thought out loud.  
        "Beats me." Sam answered, squeezing your hand and then standing up. He offered one of his large hands to you, and pulled you up from the grass, and then into a warm hug.  
        "Thank you. For everything." He whispered into your collarbone, leaving a gentle kiss on top of his soaked in words. Electricity sparked through your body, and then he pulled away. You looked into his hazel eyes and for the first time ever, you saw Sam differently. You saw him as a man, not a little brother or someone who needed protecting. You saw him as a man, a smoldering soul inside an all-too smoldering body.  
        Your cheeks heated up and you raised your hand to rub your collarbone. There was heat lingering from Sam's lips and breath. You looked at him in confusion and he smiled triumphantly, turning on his heels and walking towards where Dean had disappeared. You followed behind him, your mind suffocating from confusion and clarity all at once. Confusion because only Dean had been able to get that kind of response from you, but clarity because now you knew. You had feelings for both brothers. Both facts scared you.  
        You neared Dean as the coroner handed him a card. He turned and walked towards you, waving the card around.  
        "Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college. Her funeral was three days ago." He told you, already heading back towards the Impala.  
        "And?" Sam asked.  
        "And? Her grave, Sammy. Everything dead around it in a perfect circle. You don't think that's a little weird?" Dean snapped.  
        "Maybe the grounds keeper went a little agro with the pesticide?" Sam suggested.  
        "No, I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it."  
        "So, what are you thinkin' Dean-o?" You asked, settling against Baby's side.  
        "Unholy ground, maybe."  
        "What?" Sam asked in disbelief, looking towards you. You shrugged in response and waited for Dean to continue.  
        "What? If something evil happened, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?" Dean asked Sam. "It could be a sign of a demonic presence... Or the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough."  
        Sam shrugged and headed for the passenger door.  
        "Don't get too excited, Moose." You joked, raising your eyebrows at his negativity.   
        "It's just stumbling onto a hunt... Here of all places?"   
        "So?" Dean snapped again, opening the driver's door.  
        "So, are you sure this is about a hunt? Or something else?" Sam inquired. Dean rested his hands on the hood of the Impala, clearly irritated now. Sam just looked at him in response.  
        "What else would it be about?" Dean asked lowly.  
        "Just forget it." Sam sighed, opening his door.  
        "Believe what you want, Sam, but I let you two drag my ass out here. The least we can do is check this out."  
        "We will, Dean." You spoke up, pointing an expecting look at Sam.  
        "Yeah, fine." Sam replied, sliding into his seat.  
        Dean cleared his throat as he got into his own seat at the same time as you got into yours.  
        "The girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school." Dean told us. The engine revved and then you were driving into town.  
\---------------------------  
        "You sure, Sweetheart?" Dean asked you.  
        "Yes, Dean. Sam can do research while we go in." You replied.  
        You were all sitting in the Impala, in the parking lot of the local college. Dean had told you that him and Sam could go in and talk to the girl's father, but Sam clearly wanted to do some more research. So, you offered your assistance to Dean.  
        "Alright. That okay with you, Sam?" Dean questioned  
        "Yeah, it's fine." Sam replied, already pulling out his laptop. You smiled at your small victory and hopped out of the car with Dean behind you.  
        You had to ask for help finding the professor's office only once, which pleased Dean. You waited patiently as Dean knocked on the office door. Soon a balding man answered, he was about Dean's height.  
        "Dr. Mason?" Dean asked.  
        "Yes." The man answered.  
        "I'm Y/N. This is Dean. We were friends of Angela's. We wanted to offer our condolences." You told him. Dean relaxed at your statement.  
        "Please, come in." Dr. Mason said, opening his office door wider and allowing the two of you entrance.  
        You both sat on a sofa while Dr. Mason told you stories about his daughter. Nostalgia and pain danced across his face while the stories escaped his mouth. Soon he handed the two of you a photo album. You flipped through it slowly, Dean now standing off to the side of the room, gazing upon the professor's shelves.   
        "She really was beautiful, sir." You noted.  
        "Yes, she was." He replied sadly.   
        "This is a weird book." Dean announced, broadcasting a dark brown book with symbols on the cover.  
        "It's ancient Greek. I teach a course." Dr. Mason replied simply. Dean set the book back in its place on the shelf, stepping near you and Dr. Mason.  
        "So, a car accident. That's-- That's horrible." He whispered, standing in front of your lap.  
        "Angie was only a mile away from home when..." Dr. Mason's voice trailed off at the end, a pang of sympathy rang in your chest.  
        "It's got to be hard, losing somebody like that." Dean told him. "Sometimes it's like their still around. Like you can sense their presence. You ever feel anything like that?" You glared at Dean for how obvious he was being, but Dr. Mason seemed to not notice.  
        "I do, as a matter of fact." He whispered to you.  
        "That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you're going through." You told him gently.   
        "You know, I still phone her. And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh... Family's everything, you know? Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now I'm just lost without her." Dean diverted his eyes towards the window.  
        "I'm very sorry. I can't imagine how you feel." You replied, watching Dean out of the corner of your eyes.  
        You listened to Dr. Mason told you two more stories about Angela. How he would always make sure her tank was full before she left the house when she was an underage licensed driver. How he took her out to her favorite restaurants whenever she passed one of her college courses. How he gifted her a car after she graduated high school. How contagious her laughter was. How she was such a great person.  
        When Dr. Mason ran out of things to say, Dean announced that it was time for you to leave, something about having to study for your own finals, and you left.   
        You followed his large boots down the long corridors of the campus, the constant chatter of the college kids filled in your silence nicely. Dean didn't even glance your way until you both had reached the parking lot.  
        "Hey..." He grabbed your wrist gently when you didn't see him stop. You turned to face him, confused.   
        "Yeah?" You asked expectantly.  
        "Back at the cemetery, uh, how did my mom's tombstone look?"  
        "What do you mean?" You questioned further, not understanding what he was asking about.  
        "Was it clean? Nice? Well-kept? Hell, I don't know." He shook his head, ashamed of himself and tried to walk past me.  
        "Dean." You stopped him, stepping in front of him and looking up into his green orbs. They looked dark and disappointed. "It was lovely. Clean, nice, well-kept. The whole nine-yards." You told him.  
        He looked down towards the ground and did the half-grin that you love so much.  
        "Thanks." He said, pulling you into a quick hug and then heading back towards the Impala.  
\------------------------------------  
        "I'm telling you, Sam, there's something going on. We just haven't found it yet." Dean stated again.  
        "Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing." Sam replied from the motel bathroom.  
        "Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground." You added, plopping onto the couch to get your four hours.  
        "There's no reason for that grave to be unholy ground." Sam argued, exiting the bathroom and standing in front of you and Dean. "Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful-spirit material. You heard her father yourselves."  
        "Yeah, well maybe daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean spat, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the door.  
        "You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore."   
        "So, what, Sam? We just bail without even figuring out what's going on?" Dean questioned.  
        "I think I know what's going on here. It's the only reason I've went along with it this far." Sam replied, hands on his hips.   
        "What are you talking about?" Dean asked. You turned onto your back and pulled your hoodie tight around your body, closing your eyes and listening to the boys arguing.  
        "This is about mom's grave."   
        "Got nothing to do with it." Dean scoffed. Your chest tightened at their exchange. Dean wouldn't keep you here longer than needed, and you knew that. How could Sam not see that?  
        "You wouldn't step within 100 yards of it. Look, maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about mom or dad." It went silent for a while, and you honestly thought about letting your mind drift off to sleep, but there was tension filling the air, and that kept you awake.  
        "Look," Sam started. "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead if it will make you feel better."  
        "I don't need this crap." Dean growled. You heard shuffling and then keys.   
        "Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked.  
        "I'm going to get a drink. Alone." A door opened, and then slammed shut.  
        You considered chasing after him, but you knew that it would do no good; so you settled further into the couch and you fell asleep.  
\----------------------------------  
        "Where the hell were you?" Sam asked. They were trying to be quiet, but you still woke up.   
        "I was working my imaginary case." Dean replied.  
        "Holy shit... What time is it?" you asked, stretching and yawning.  
        "10 AM, Sweetheart." Dean answered, pulling you up to your feet.  
        "So, the case?" you asked, grimacing at the older Winchester.  
        "Well, Sam was right, I didn't find much." Dean said, turning and facing Sam. You waited for him to continue. "Except that Angela's boyfriend died last night. Slit his own throat, but, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see, what else? OH, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But, you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."  
        "Okay, I get it." Sam replied warmly. "I'm sorry. Maybe there is something going on here."  
        "Maybe? Sam, I know how to do my job despite what you might think."  
        "We should check out the guy's apartment. And stop yelling." You explained, running your hands through your hair.  
        "I just came from there." Dean told you as he sat on the couch, yanking off his jacket and boots. "Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Hell, a dead goldfish, too."  
        "So, unholy ground?" Sam asked.  
        "Maybe. Still not getting that powerful angry-spirit vibe from Angela. I've been reading this though." Dean announced, pulling out a diary.  
        "You stole and have been reading the girl's diary?" You asked.   
        "Yeah, Y/N, and if anything, the girl's a little too nice."  
        "So, what do you want to do?" You tried again.  
        "Keep digging, talk to her friends."  
        "Do you have any names?" Sam asked Dean. You headed off to the bathroom and brushed your teeth to get ready.  
\------------------  
        "I didn't know the college offered grief counselors." The lanky curly-haired man told you all as he stood in his doorway.  
        "Oh yeah, you talk, we listen. Maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage -- whatever helps jump-start the healing." Dean explained.  
        "Well, I think I'm okay, thanks."   
        "You heard about what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" You asked.  
        "Yeah, I did." You answered.  
        "We just wanted to make sure you were okay, grief can make people do crazy things." Sam added. The man looked at Dean and Dean nodded, smiling.  
        "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But, if Matt killed himself, it wasn't 'cause of grief."   
        "No?" You asked, pushing him to explain more to you.  
        "It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it."  
        "How was Matt responsible?" You asked.   
        "She really loved that guy, but on the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car. Um, look, I really gotta get ready for work. So, thanks for the concern but, seriously, I'll be okay."  
        "Alright. Thanks for your time." You smiled at him as he closed his house door.   
        "Well, my vengeful-spirit theory is starting to make more sense." Dean said as we neared the Impala. "I mean, Hell hath no fury."  
        "So, if Angela got her revenge on Matt, do you think it's over?" Sam asked as you all climbed into Baby.  
        "Well, there's one way to find out." Dean explained.   
        "Yeah, what's that, Winchester?" You asked from the backseat.   
        "Burn the bones."   
        "Burn the bones? Are you high?" You asked again.  
        "Angela died last week, Dean!" Sam spat.  
        "So?" Dean asked in annoyance.  
        "There's not going to be bones to burn. There's going to be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."   
        "Since when are you afraid to get dirty, huh?" Dean retorted, chuckling at Sam as if he were crazy.  
        Sam looked at you in complete disbelief as Dean stepped on the gas. You simply shook your head in response. Dean was definitely a complex person.  
        The drive to the cemetery was short. No one really spoke. You got there, broke into the ground keeping shed, and nabbed two shovels and three flashlights. The boys got to digging while you kept watch. They were pretty adamant about being the ones to dig, which in a way irritated you because you knew very well you were capable of doing it myself, but you let them anyways. Keep from another pointless argument for the time being.  
        Hours had passed, the boys were glowing in the moonlight from sweat. You wouldn't complain though, you had a nice view.  
        "Here we go." Dean announced. You pointed your flashlight down into the now dug-up grave and saw the coffin. "Ladies first." Dean told Sam.   
        "Hold that." Sam replied, handing Dean his flashlight. He bent down and pried open the coffin. "Dean, are you seeing this?" Sam asked, sounding unsure of himself.   
        "Yeah, I'm seeing it." Dean replied.  
        "What is it?" You asked worriedly.  
        "Body isn't in the coffin. Here, help me up." Dean answered. You helped pull his large body out of the grave, and watched as he hoisted Sam up.  
        "They buried the body four days ago. I don't get it." Sam said while you all stared into the hole you had made, empty coffin showcased smack dab in the middle.   
        "Woah, guys. Look." You saw something engraved in the middle of the coffin and hopped into the hole. Dean followed after you. "What are these?"   
        "Not sure, but I've seen these kinds of symbols before." Dean replied. Sam helped you back out and then Dean. "You remember that book in Dr. Mason's office, Y/N?"   
        "Yeah, vaguely. Those were the same symbols? You sure?" You asked.   
        "Positive." Dean answered while you all left the cemetery and headed for Baby.  
        "So?" Sam pushed.  
        "We pay him a visit in the morning after library research." you answered.  
        "I call dibs on first shower." You shouted when you all packed inside the small room. The boys groaned but didn't argue, and soon you were all cleaned up and on your way to the library to research the symbols.  
        ----------------------------  
        Dean's fist pounded on the door while you and Sam stood a little further back.  
        "Dean, take it easy, okay?" Sam warned. Dean ignored the warning and pounded on the door again.  
        The door creaked open to reveal Dr. Mason.   
        "You're Angie's friends, right?" He asked you. You nodded in response.   
        "We need to talk." Dean growled.   
        "Well, then come in." He said as he opened the door for you all, just like he had at his office.  
        "You teach ancient Greek?" Dean asked as soon as you stepped into the house. "Tell me, what are these?" He pulled out the paper you had used to scribble down the symbols that were on the coffin, and he handed it to Dr. Mason.  
        "I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela."  
        "It does. Please, just humor me." Dean replied coldly. You sent Dr. Mason an apologetic look.  
        "They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual."  
        "Used for necromancy, right?" Dean pushed.          
        "That's right."   
        "See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently, they use rituals like this one to communicate with the dead, even bringing corpses back to life -- full-on zombie action."           
        "Yeah, I mean, according to the legends." Dr. Mason replied, folding the paper and returning it to Dean. "Now, what's all this about?"  
        "I think you know." Dean growled again.   
        "Dean." you and Sam both warned.  
        "Look, I get it. Okay, there are people that I would give anything to see again, but what gives you the right?"   
        "DEAN." Sam roared.   
        "What are you talking about?!" Dr. Mason questioned.   
        "What's dead should stay dead." Dean replied.  
        "What?!"   
        "STOP IT!" Sam yelled.   
        "What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore! These things are vicious, they're violent! They're so nasty, they rot the ground around them! I mean, come on! Haven't you seen 'Pet Cemetery?"  
        "You're insane." Dr. Mason said, heading past you all and towards the phone.  
        "Where is she?" Dean asked.   
        "Get out of my house!"   
        "I know you're hiding her somewhere." Dean shouted, taking the phone from Dr. Mason's hands. "Where is she?!"   
        "Dean! Stop it! That's enough." you shouted, stepping in between him and Dr. Mason. "Dean, look! Beautiful, living plants." you pointed out.  
        "We're leaving." Sam told Dr. Mason as you practically towed Dean out of his house.   
        "What the hell's the matter with you!?" Sam yelled at Dean, coming up from behind the two of you.  
        "Back off." Dean shouted, still walking ahead.   
        "That man is innocent! He didn't deserve that!" Sam shouted.   
        "Okay, so she's not here! He could be hiding her somewhere else." Dean replied.   
        "Stop it! That's enough, okay? Enough!"  
        "Sam, I know what I'm doing!"  
        "No you don't, at all. Dean, I don't scare easily, but you're scaring the crap outta me!"  
        "Don't be over dramatic, Sam." Dean ordered as the Impala came into view.  
        "You're lucky that this turned out to be a real case, 'cause if it wasn't, you would've just found something else to kill."  
        "SAM." You yelled, stepping between the two of them now.  
        "What, Y/N?! He's on edge, he's erratic, except for when he's hunting, 'cause then he's downright scary. He's tailspinning! He refuses to talk about it and he won't let either of us help him!" Sam shouted at you.  
        "That's fucking enough!" Dean shouted. "I can take care of myself, thanks!"   
        "No, you can't!" Sam argued. "And you know what? You're the only one who thinks you should have to. You don't have to handle this on your own, Dean! No one can."   
        "Sam, if you bring up dad's death again."  
        "DEAN. It's killing you, please." Sam begged, stopping Dean in his tracks. "We've already lost dad. We lost mom. I've lost Jessica. And now I'm gonna lose you, too?"   
        "I hear you, okay? I'm being an ass, I'm sorry. But right now we got a freaking zombie running around. We need to figure out how to kill it."   
        "Let's get out of here before the cops come." You mumbled, shoving past the boys so they wouldn't see the tears that were spilling.  
\---------------------------  
        "We can't just waste her with a headshot?" Dean asked skeptically as he came back into the motel room.  
        "Dude, you've been watching way too many Romero flicks." Sam joked.   
        "You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke them?" Dean asked for the hundredth time.   
        "No, Dean. He's telling us there's too much." You explained for Sam, rubbing your temples, trying to rid the oncoming migraine.   
        "There's 100 different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them. Some say setting them on fire. One said-- where is it -- right here, feeding their hearts to wild dogs. That's Y/N's personal favorite." You laughed again at Sam mentioning that morbid idea.   
        "But who knows what's real and what's myth." Sam stated.  
        "Is there anything they have in common?" Dean asked.   
        "No, but a few said silver might work." You grumbled.   
        "Silver's a start." Dean replied happily. You smiled at his tone and hopped up to get a cup of water.  
        "But now, how are we going to find Angela?" Sam asked while you gulped down the cold water.   
        "We got to figure out who brought her back." Dean answered.   
        "Any ideas?"   
        "I think if it's not her dad, it's got to be that guy, Neil!" Dean recollected the man's name.  
        "How'd you come up with that?" Sam asked.   
        "Well, you got your journal, I got mine." Dean replied, opening Angela's diary to a specific page and clearing his throat. "Neil's a real shoulder to cry on. He so understands what I'm going through with Matt.' There's more here from where that came from. It's got unrequited duckie love written all over it."      
        "Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead." Sam challenged.   
        "Hm, did I forget to mention that he's Professor Mason's T.A.? Has access to all the same books." Dean added, smiling in pride. You giggled and shook your head while yanking on your jacket and boots.   
        "Let's go investigate, boys." You beamed, already halfway out of the motel door.  
        It took a while to get there, the after-hour traffic proving to be a pain in the ass. Dean had yelled a few choice-words at some drivers who had almost rear-ended Baby. But, you all finally arrived at Neil's house without a scratch, and Sam picked his lock with ease.   
        "Hello?" Dean called into the dark house. "Neil! It's your grief counselors, we've come to hug!" Dean added while he cocked a gun.  
        "Silver bullets?" You asked.  
        "Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse."  
        You and Sam followed Dean throughout the house. Dean was the only one properly armed for this hunt, if silver actually does do the trick.  Passing by multiple dead plants on your voyage through the house. Dean stopped ahead of you and angled his head towards a bolted door.   
        "Unless it's where he keeps his porn." He joked when you and Sam looked at him quizzically.  
        Sam unlocked the door and Dean went down the stairs first, gun raised. Sam followed Dean, and you followed Sam. The door led to some sort of cellar that was old and furnished with a mattress and sheets.   
        "Sure looks like a zombie pen to me." Dean mumbled.   
        "Yeah." You breathed, your claustrophobia slowly kicking in.   
        "An empty one. You think Angela's going after somebody?" Sam asked.   
        "No, I think she went out to rent 'Beaches." Dean joked as he checked one of the grates that led outside.   
        "Look, Smartass. She might kill someone. The three of us have to find her, Dean."  
        "Yeah. Look, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?"  
        "Yeah." Sam answered.  
        "Well, takes two to, you know, have hardcore sex. I don't know. It just seemed that, uh, Angela's roommate was a little broken up over Matt's death. I mean like, really broken up." Dean explained.  
        "Let's go check it out." You said eagerly, already halfway back up the stairs. You wanted nothing more than to get out of the cramped space you were in.  
\------------------------  
        The shots rang out as soon as Sam and Dean entered the house before you.  
        "Is everyone okay?!" You yelled, running through the open front door.  
        "Yeah, she took off. I'm going after her." Dean replied, hopping through a window.  
        Sam managed to calm down Lindsey, and within seconds Dean was back.  
        "Damn, that dead chick can run." He breathed.  
        "What now?" Sam asked, still holding a shocked Lindsey.  
        "I say we go have a little chat with Neil."   
        You were in the Impala a few minutes later after Lindsey reassured you that she would be ok. It was pitch black outside and cold. You gave yourself props for remembering your jacket.   
        "So, the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam asked after a few minutes.  
        "Yeah, something, but not enough. What else you got?" Dean returned with another question.  
        "Um, okay, besides silver, we have 'nailing the undead back into their grave beds." Sam answered. "It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire-staking lore came from."  
        "Their grave beds?" You asked skeptically. "You serious?"  
        "Yeah." Sam answered.  
        "How the hell are we gonna get Angela back to the cemetery?" Dean questioned.  
        Nobody answered because none of you had any idea on how, and the ones that were suggested during the rest of the car ride seemed too far-fetched. So, you pulled into Neil's work driveway with hardly any clue as to how you were going to go about this.  
        "What are you guys doing here?" Neil asked when the three of you burst through his office door.  
        "You know, I've heard some people are doing some pretty nasty things to get laid. But you, you take the cake." Dean replied.  
        "Okay, who are you three? Really?"   
        "You might want to ask Angela that question." You growled.  
        "What?" Neil asked, his face going white at your statement.  
        "We know what you did." Sam replied coldly. "The ritual... Everything."  
        "You're crazy." Neil scoffed from his desk.  
        "You're girlfriend's past her expiration date, and we're crazy?" Dean asked, leaning down to Neal's level. "When someone's gone, they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff."  
        "Angela killed Matt." You explained, stepping up next to Dean. "She tried to kill Lindsey."  
        "I don't know what you're talking about." Neil told you. Your anger boiled inside and you wanted to punch him, but you held back.  
        "Hey! No more crap Neil!" Dean growled, stalking around the desk and lifting Neil up by his shirt collar. You watched in awe and satisfaction. "This blood is on your hands. Now, me, him and her," Dean explained pointing at you and Sam, "we can make this right, but you got to tell us where she is. Tell us!" Dean shouted, shaking Neil like a rag doll.  
        "My house. She's at my house." Neil answered, diverting eye contact with Dean. You followed his eyes and saw the wilted plants.   
        "Are you sure?" You asked.  
        "Yeah." Neil whispered. His eyes traced to the door on the side of the room, possibly a closet. This time Dean followed with you.   
        "Listen, it doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her. We've got to perform another ritual over her grave." Dean lied, letting his grip on Neil go and walking back over to you. "To reverse the one that you did. We're going to need some black roots, some scar weed, some candles. It's very complicated, but it will get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple of hours. I think you should come with us." You all waited for Neil to move, anything.  
        "I'm serious, Neil. Leave with us right now." Dean ordered.   
        "No. No." Neil whispered. Dean leaned forward and whispered something you couldn't hear to Neil, and then he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with Sam out the office door and back to the Impala.  
\-------------------------------  
        "You really think this is gonna work?" Sam asked Dean as he lit candles on the third side of the grave you left uncovered. We all had a side to lay the candles along, had it not been for this reason, it would have been nearly aesthetically pleasing.  
        "Not at all. But it was the only thing I could come up with." Dean replied. Twigs snapped behind you and all three of you hopped up, pulling out your pistols immediately.   
        Dean signaled for Sam to go check it out, and Sam went off into the dark scenery of the cemetery. A single shot ran out. You looked at Dean painfully. Dean wore the same expression and you both waited.   
        Sam came barreling out of the bushes behind a few headstones and you re-aimed. You watched as Angela jumped on top of Sam. And then you saw red. You aimed, breathed in and took a shot. Hitting her in the back of the head. She twisted off of Sam and stood up.  
        "You bitch." She spat.  
        It was Dean's turn to shoot. He sent five rounds into various parts of her body, the impact sending her flying into her coffin in her grave. Sam quickly scrambled up, and you watched Dean run full speed with the stake and dive into the grave, running towards it yourself to make sure he was okay. You leaned over the edge of the hole and watched Dean sink the stake through her chest and into the coffin.   
        "What's dead should stay dead." He growled, climbing off of her and closing her coffin door.  
        It was morning when you finished covering up her coffin. All three of you were exhausted and cranky.  
        "Rest in peace." Sam whispered as he finished patting down the dead earth with his shovel.  
        "Yeah, for good this time, okay?" Dean added.   
        You left the boys alone for a while, heading towards Baby on your own, but you stopped at a familiar headstone, kneeling down for an easier conversation.   
        "Hey, Mary. I'm Y/N. Dawn and Mitchel's kid. You never met me, but, uh. I just-- I want you to know that I'm trying my hardest to take care of your boys. I love them both senseless, and I know you did too. Despite what they might think, I know John loved them as well. I just wanted to say that they're doing the best they can. They really are, and, uh, they miss you. They miss you so much." You whispered. You ran your fingers along her engraved name, the marble smooth against your fingertips.   
        You got up and padded off towards Baby again. This time not stopping. You leaned against her side, and watched as Sam and Dean walked towards you. You climbed into Baby and rode in silence. Your mind drifted to happier times, when monsters were just stories that your mom and dad would tell you. When Dean was helping you learn how to lie better. Happier times.  
        You were pulled from your own thoughts when Dean pulled over on the side of the mountain view highway. Sam shared a confused look with you as Dean got out and rested against the hood of the Impala, the sunrise hitting his skin in brilliant hues of orange.   
        "I'll check on him." You told Sam, hopping out of the back seat. You were immediately worried when you saw the pained expression Dean wore, and you knew his tough facade was breaking. "Hey, what's wrong?" You asked, resting against the hood right next to him.  
        "I'm sorry." He replied, and you knew Sam could hear him through the open windows of the Impala.   
        "For what?" you asked.   
        "For the way I've been acting." Sam got out of the car too, and sat on the opposite side of you. You waited patiently for Dean to continue. "And for dad... Well, he was your dad, too, Sammy. It's my fault he's gone."  
        "What are you talking about?" Sam asked, concern flooding his voice.   
        "I know you've been thinking about it, so have I. Same with you, Y/N/N." He used your nickname from when you were kids. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I had a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later, dad's dead, and the colt's gone. You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly... But dad's dead because of me. And that much, I do know."  
        "We don't know that, not for sure." Sam argued.  
        "Sam..." Dean's voice broke, and you grabbed his hand. Holding it as gingerly as you could. He squeezed in response, and you relaxed when he didn't let go. "You, and dad, and Y/N, too. You're the most important people in my life. And now... I never should have come back. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead... You wanted to know how I was feeling." Dean added, tears fell now and you felt your tears fall, too. "Well, that's it. So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?"  
        And no one said anything, because you all had nothing to say. You simply sat there, grieving silently. The only thing keeping you from going on a long walk was Dean's hand, entwined with your own. A gentle squeeze taking place every few minutes, a silent reassurance that you'd quickly return.   
And you knew that this wasn't the end.


	8. Simon Said

"Woah, woah! Dean, what's wrong?" You asked, hopping out of the backseat. Dean was practically dragging Sam to the Impala, and Sam didn't look too good. He was pale and trying to help Dean support his weight. The night air pulled at his hair from random angles, further illuminating the state of discomfort he was in.  
        You rushed over and grabbed Sam's other arm, slinging it over your shoulder.   
        "Dean, what the hell's going on here?" You asked again, pulling Sam harder.   
        "Sam's having one of his vision things. Or something. I dunno, Y/N." Dean answered you gruffly.   
        The boys had told you that Sam sometimes has visions or dreams, and that they get worse when you were closer to the yellow eyed demon. Of course, they told you this at Bobby's auto-yard, after John's passing. You weren't very convinced, but you guess you had to be now. We do hunt monsters for a living, surely this wasn't too far-fetched?  
        You both finally hoisted Sam's gargantuan figure into the Impala, your arm muscles screaming in protest as you lowered him into the passenger seat. You put your hand to Sam's forehead to check for a fever, sweat was trickling down his cheeks.  
        "You have a fever, Sam." You told him, grabbing your water bottle from the back and handing it to him. "It's not iced, but it should help. Drink."  
        "Thanks." He whispered, shutting his eyes.   
        "Headache?" You asked.   
        "Oh yeah." He replied.   
        You slid into the familiar seat in the back as Dean brought the engine to life. You let your eyes gaze aimlessly at the passing scenery outside. The dark night and the layer of rainwater on the street illuminated the road slightly.           
        "Dean, we need to go to the roadhouse. See if Ash can track down my vision." Sam announced, breaking the silence as you all drove down a hill.   
        "I don't know, man. Why don't we just chill out and think about this?" Dean replied.   
        Sam clicked the radio off and looked at Dean, "What's there to think about?"  
        "Just don't know if going to the roadhouse is the smartest idea."  
        "Dean, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen and Ash can tell us where."   
        "Yeah, man, but-"  
        "Plus it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do."   
        "That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if-- If going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a demonic connection is the best idea, okay?"   
        "So, I'm a freak now?" Sam asked, clearly hurt by the words Dean had let slip from his mouth.   
        "You've always been a freak." Dean replied, trying to shake the tension. "Fine, we'll go." 

        --------------------

        The engine shut off and you all made your way out of the Impala, heading into Harvelle's Roadhouse.   
        "Just couldn't stay away, could you?" Jo asked. She was leaning over a table and cleaning the remnants of someone's meal. Already back to flirting with Dean. You tried not to let your face give away your annoyance while their conversation droned on.  
        "Yeah, looks like. How are you doing, Jo?" Dean replied, flashing one of his smiles her way.  
        "Where's Ash?" Sam asked, nearly as annoyed as you.  
        "In his back room." Jo answered quickly, her flirty smiling draining from her face as she turned her attention towards Sam.  
        "Great." You snapped, grabbing Sam by his hands and towing him towards the back of the Roadhouse.   
        "And I'm fine!" Jo called from over her shoulder. You tossed her a thumbs-up and continued towards the back with Sam, not in the mood to be bitchy and childish over a man.  
        "Dr. Badass is in." You read to Sam as we neared the back room. "Ash sure is a character."   
        "Yeah." Sam huffed, tapping on the door with his knuckles. "Ash?" He called. "Hey, Ash!" He called again, tapping more insistently.   
        Dean rounded the hall corner and stalked up to the two of you, sending you and Sam both a look of annoyance. Dean stifled down a laugh when he read Ash's sign and knocked on the door loudly.   
        "Dr. Badass?" He shouted, louder than Sam had. The lock to the door shifted and the door opened, revealing a nearly-nude Ash.   
        "Sam and Dean." Ash spoke up, sniffing the air. "And Y/N. Nice perfume."   
        "Uh, thanks Ash." You thanked him awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but his hairless chest.   
        "Hey, Ash." Sam saved you. "Um, we need your help."   
        "Hell, then. I guess I need my pants." Ash replied sadly. The three of you nodded your heads and waited on the bar stools for Ash.   
        He finally appeared, a shirt and pants covering his body. You listened quietly while Sam explained to Ash what the logo from his vision looked like.  
        "Observant." You complimented.  
        "The logo on the bus," Sam continued, smiling at your comment, "it was a road in a triangle and a rectangle at the bottom. 'Blue Ridge' in the center."  
        Ash sat at his laptop, clicking and typing while the three of you waited impatiently. Dean played with two straws that were in the straw holder, Sam gazed at Ash's laptop screen (which Ash constantly asked him to stop doing,) and you bounced your knees up and down; humming Alice in Chains.  
        "Well, it's the logo for the Blue Ridge bus lines. Guthrie, Oklahoma." Ash announced.   
        "Okay, do us a favor." Sam replied. "Check Guthrie for any demonic signs or omens."  
        "You think the demon is there?" Ash asked.   
        "Stop picking at your cast, Sam." You scolded.   
        "Well, had the reborn Angela Mason not tackled me near mom's grave, I'd be fine." Sam quipped back, but you noticed that he stopped picking at the cast.   
        "Anyways," Ash continued, frowning at Sam and your dispute. "Why would you think the demon's there?"   
        "Just check it." Dean ordered, standing behind you with his arms crossed over his abdomen.   
        "No, sir. Nothing. No demon." Ash answered.  
        "All right. Try something else for me." Sam replied, leaning forward in his chair. "Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983. Fire's origin would be a baby nursery, night of the kid's 6-month birthday."  
        Ash looked at Sam like he was psychotic, and you heard Jo stop herself from cleaning behind you. You turned and sent her a look, causing her to quickly relocate the spot on the table she had been cleaning.   
        "Okay, now, that is just weird, man." Ash whispered, still looking at Sam. "Why the hell would I be looking for that?"  
        "Cause there's a PBR in it for you." Sam answered, settling a beer onto the table in front of Ash.  
        "Give me 15 minutes." Ash replied, going to work on his laptop.  
        You and Sam sat at the table still, watching Ash type away while Dean made off towards the bar.   
        "You put that man in a maze, with beer buried under it and he'd get to it." You scoffed, tapping your fingers on your thighs. Sam laughed a hearty laugh and the two of you talked aimlessly while we waited for Ash to finish up.   
        "Holy hell..." Ash mumbled, looking at the screen.   
        "Find something?" You asked, leaning over to look at the screen.   
        "It's an exact match." He answered. "I'll print it out for you." He clicked a few buttons and then set off in the direction of his room.   
        "Sam, if this case is going to be hard on you..." You started.          
        "What? I can't sit it out, Y/N. I need to get to the bottom of this. Help other people who are like me." Sam replied.   
        "I know that, I'm just worried. You know?" You shot back quickly.   
        "I know you are. But I'll be okay." Sam answered, hugging you against his side. You took a few deep breaths, calming yourself from the worry that gnawed away at your brain.   
        "Okay." You finally replied, patting his chest and then sitting back up in your seat.   
        "Here you go." Ash hollered, coming out from the hallway. He handed Sam the papers and smiled in pride.   
        "Thank you, Ash." Sam told him.   
        "Yeah, thanks Ash." You added, smiling.   
        "Don't sweat it." Ash replied, blushing. You all turned on your heels and set off to find Dean. Sure enough he was downing a beer, talking to Jo.  
        "We have a match. We got to go." Sam ordered, already heading off in the direction of the door.  
        "All right, Jo, see you later." Dean told Jo, following behind Sam. You gave her a smile and followed the two closely, not wanting to stay in the Roadhouse any longer than you had to.

        ------------------

        "And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight. You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night. And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I mi-ight." Dean sang as you all drove in the pitch-dark of the night.  
        "You're kidding right?" Sam asked, stopping Dean mid-song.  
        "I heard the song somewhere." Dean defended himself.   
        "By somewhere, you mean the Roadhouse, while you were ogling over Jo." You argued, settling back in your seat.   
        "By somewhere, you mean the Roadhouse--" Dean mimicked you. You rolled your eyes at his childish insult. "What do you guys have anyways?" Dean asked you and Sam.  
        "Andrew Gallagher, born in '83, like me and Y/N." Sam answered, reading the papers and the copy of Andrew's license on them. "Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, like me."  
        "You think the demon killed his mom?" Dean asked.   
        "Sure looks like it." Sam answered.  
        "Sam, how exactly did you know to look for this guy?" You chimed in, leaning in between the boys.   
        "Well, every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon, they're about the other kids the demon visited." Sam answered, looking at you. "Like Max Miller, remember him?" Sam looked to Dean in question. Dean thought for a minute.   
        "Yeah, but Max Miller was a basic little psycho." Dean finally replied.   
        "Point is he was killing people, and I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy." Sam retorted.   
        "How do we find him?" Dean asked.   
        "I don't know." Sam answered. "No current address, no current employment. Still owes money on all his bills -- Phone, credit, utility."  
        "Collection agency flags?" Dean questioned again.   
        "Not in the system." Sam answered.   
        "So they just ignored it?" You asked. "Just let him walk? Doesn't sound like any agency in America at all."   
        "Seems like it.." Sam answered again. "There is a work address from his last W-2 about a year ago. Let's start there."   
        You drove throughout the rest of the night, Oklahoma signs finally passing by us as we went.   
        "You two can go question whoever, I'll run to a store and pickup some actual clothes that are FBI worthy." You stated as the sun came up.   
        "Are you sure?" Sam asked, turning in his seat to look at you.   
        "Yeah, Sam. If I'm going to be hunting with you guys anyways I should probably look the part. I'll pick up some water bottles and rock salt, too. We're running low." You answered.

\---------------------

        You grabbed a muffin and coffee from a nearby coffee shop before pacing down the Guthrie streets. After a few turns and asking for directions once or twice, you found a Walmart Supercenter.   
        "It's not Kohls, but it'll do." You huffed, stepping inside the warm store and out of the crisp outdoor air.   
        You greeted the store clerk and walked down the aisles, grabbing a few suits and black pencil skirts, and some colorful blouses. After thirty minutes in the dressing room, you found that they all fit. You shuffled down the shoe aisles, pulling a few flats and heels, and another pair of black combat boots into your cart.   
        "Now I just need the salt and water." you whispered to yourself, padding down the long strips of the store. After the salt and water was in the cart, you grabbed three of Dean's favorite pies and a few salads for Sam.   
        You and the check-out lady shared a few words about the weather and whatnot before she managed to bag your stuff. You tossed her the false credit card Dean had handed you before leaving with Sam and made your way towards the parking lot. Surprisingly it all fit in three bags, so you were able to carry it all out with ease.   
        The Impala was pulled up next to the store curb, and you waved it forward.   
        "I got you your pie," You announced once you hopped in, pointing towards Dean, "and you your salad." You pointed to Sam.   
        "Rabbit food." Dean coughed, trying his best to sound nonchalant.   
        "Healthy food." Sam argued, turning in his seat. "Thank you, Y/N."   
        "Yeah, thanks." Dean thanked you grumpily.   
        "What's up your ass?" you asked.   
        "Nothing." He replied coldly, turning Zeppelin up louder. Sam shrugged at you before turning in his seat again, and facing the road.  
        "So, where are we going?" You shouted over the music.   
        "Orchard Street!" Sam yelled back. "We're looking for a van with a barbarian woman painted on it. She's supposed to be riding a polar bear!"   
        "What?" You asked, confused. Sam laughed before turning the music down a bit.  
        "Dude!" Dean argued.   
        "That's all we know so far. Well, that we can go off of, that is. One of the people at the W-2 said that this guy, Andrew, got him backstage at an Aerosmith concert." Sam continued.   
        "Makes a hell of a lot sense." You scoffed, watching out your window. "This guy can't pay bills but he can get people backstage at huge concerts? Seems sketchy."   
        "We know." Dean grumbled. You glared at the back of his headrest, trying not to snap back at him.

        -------------------------

        The Impala came to a standstill once we were on orchard street.  
        "I'm guessing that's the van?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. Lack of sleep was not beneficial to you or anyone around you.   
        "I'm sorry, but I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet." Dean mumbled, cracking his half-smile. Usually you'd be jittery and happy to see it, but it annoyed the shit out of you today.  
        "It's ugly." You spat, tracing Brando's collar tattoo on your wrist.  
        "Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what's wrong?" Dean asked. You shifted your gaze from your wrist to Sam, and sure enough, he was sitting in the passenger seat wearing his bitch face.  
        "This Andrew Gallagher-- He's the second guy like this we've found, Dean. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people." Sam explained.  
        "We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is. Could be innocent." Dean reasoned.  
        "Could very well be guilty as well." You replied matter-of-factly. Dean glared at you, resulting in you sticking your tongue out at him. "Besides, from what you two knuckleheads have told me, Sam's visions haven't been wrong yet."  
        "What's your point?" Dean countered, scooting near the middle of the Impala and glaring at you.  
        "Her point is, I'm one of them." Sam answered, shoving Dean back against his seat.  
        "No, you're not." Dean replied.  
        "Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me. Maybe this is his plan. Maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks." Sam explained. "Maybe we're all supposed to be--"  
        "What, killers?" Dean questioned angrily.  
        "Yeah." Sam answered honestly. You looked between the two brothers and absentmindedly ran your fingers through your hair.  
        "So, the demon wants you out there killing with your minds? Is that it? Give me a break. You're not a murderer, Sam! You don't have it in your bones."  
        "No?" Sam challenged. You chewed at your lip. "Last time I checked, I kill all kinds of things."  
        "Those things were asking for it. There's a difference." Dean snapped, peering at you through the rear-view mirror. He didn't break eye contact with you for a while, just looking at you. You shot him a small smile before turning and focusing on the van again.  
        "Got him!" Sam shouted, causing you to jump. He noticed and sent you an apologetic shrug.  
        Andrew was walking out of a two story house, stopping to wave to a hot blonde in the second story window. She waved back, blowing him a kiss.   
        "Guy wears a kimono and scores that?" Dean wondered out loud.  
        "Women aren't trophies, Dean." You growled, continuing to watch Andrew make his way down the side walk. He stopped and talked to a tall man for a minute before receiving the man's coffee. "Did he just take that?" You asked.   
        "Nah, that guy gave him the cup of joe." Dean answered, furrowing his brows at the actions of the man.  
        Andrew continued walking again, stopping and shaking hands with a short, dark-skinned man.   
        "That's him, that older guy. He's the shooter." Sam announced. You nodded your head, continuing to watch as Andrew walked away from him.  
        "Well, you two keep with him, I'll stick with Andy." Dean ordered, starting up the Impala. You hopped out of the car with Sam, stretching quickly, your muscles aching at the sudden movements, and then you followed after the short man with Sam; down another long sidewalk.  
        "Hey, hold up." Sam whispered to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you against him.  
        "Sam, what the hell?" You hissed, peering out from his baggy jacket and towards the short man we had followed.   
        "The call, it's the one before he goes into the gun store. Just wait." Sam whispered again, snaking his arms around your waist.   
        "Buy me a drink first, Sammy. Sheesh." you grumbled.   
        "Well, we can't just stand in the middle of the sidewalk side-by-side with our fingers in our mouths." Sam explained. You let out a sigh but leaned against his large figure, still managing to see the man on the phone. "Just let me know when he starts walking."   
        "Aye-aye, Captain." You replied, his call was short lived. "He's moving."   
        "Okay, come on!" Sam ushered you along with him into and across the street, and into the gun store. Soon he had the fire alarm going and all of the customers were swarming out.   
        "Good call." You whispered as you pooled onto the sidewalk outside along with everyone else.   
        "Thanks." Sam replied, bumping your shoulder and pointing towards the short man in the crowd. He looked perplexed at the change of events, but shrugged them off, going back to answering his phone.          
        "Isn't that Dean?" You asked Sam, watching as the Impala lulled past you.  
        "No... That's Andrew." Sam answered.   
        "Oh, for fuck's sake." You grumbled, fishing out your phone and dialing Dean's number. Ring. Ring. Ring.  
        "Dean, why the hell does Andy have the Impala?" You shouted over the commotion from the people around you.   
        "I know, I know. He sorta just asked me for it, and I let him take it." Dean explained.   
        "You what?!" You were really shouting now.   
        "Bastard asked. He full on Obi-waned me, Y/N! It's mind control!" Dean replied.  
        From the corner of your eye you could see the short man heading for the road. The bus barreling down it at full speed.   
        "NO!" You screamed trying to make way towards the road, but Sam stopped you, and you watched as the man was completely ran over.   
        "Y/N?!" Dean screamed from over the line. You couldn't move or respond, so Sam took the phone from you. He mumbled your whereabouts and then you walked to the nearest tree, collapsing to your knees next to it. Sam sat with you, not speaking either.

\---------------------------

        Soon the paramedics showed up, quickly moving his body from the road to the sidewalk. Dean's figure grew in the distance, sprinting over once he saw you.   
        "The hell happened?" He asked, kneeling in front of you and snapping his fingers.   
        "She could be in shock." Sam replied. You were very aware of their conversation, but you felt numb and frozen in time; and it's sad that you took comfort in that.  
        "What happened, Sam?" Dean growled.  
        "We kept him out of the gun store. We thought he was okay. I should have stayed with him." Sam mumbled. You managed to clear the haze surrounding your mental state and stood up.  
        "Whoa, careful there, daydreamer." Dean stated, helping you position yourself upright.   
        "Don't. I'm fine." You snapped, walking past the two of them. "Let's go find the damn Impala."   
        You all walked in silence, only hearing the occasional complaint from Dean; which you and Sam both ignored. Finally, after a left turn, the Impala came into view.  
        "Thank god!" Dean shouted, already running towards the car. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again."   
        "I think it'll take more than an 'I'm sorry." You retorted, climbing in the familiar backseat. "At least he left the keys in it!" You called, tossing Dean the keys through the driver's window.   
        "Yeah, real Samaritan, this guy." Sam replied, hopping into his seat.  
        "It looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he's got to use verbal commands." Dean told you both as he climbed in as well.  
        "The doctor had just gotten off the cellphone when he stepped in front of that bus." Sam noted. You cringed at the memory of the man's body being sucked under the bus and then flopped back out.   
        "So, Andy called him." You announced.  
        "Maybe..." Dean whispered.   
        "Beg your pardon?" Sam asked in disbelief.   
        "I just don't know if he's our guy, Sam." Dean explained.  
        "Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white bronco, and you have doubts about this?"   
        "He doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type. You know. And O.J. was guilty!" Dean shouted back.   
        "Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?" You shouted over the bickering brothers. "This still counts as a case, and regardless, Andy is our main suspect!"  
        "Not a problem." Dean answered, yanking out keys from his pocket. "His van will tell us everything." He explained, winking at you before turning the Impala on and peeling out from the side-street.  
        Dean let out a grunt as he pushed against the crowbar you all had wedged between the back doors of Andy's van.  
        "Just. One. More. AGH. There we go." Dean chimed as the doors finally swung open.   
        Sam managed to peak through the doors with Dean before you had the chance.   
        "Oh, come on. THIS is magnificent." Dean exclaimed.   
        "Move over, grandpa." you replied, shoving your way through the men's broad shoulders. "Holy shit. Is this guy serious?" The floor of the van was carpeted red, and a painting of a tiger was embedded in the van's wall. A disco ball illuminated the entirety of the van, dangling in the center.   
        "Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though." Dean added. "There's no clown paintings on the walls or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger." you shot a glare his way. "What? It's badass."   
        "Hegel? Kant?" Sam questioned. You looked over and saw him examining some stray books that laid across the van floor. "Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading, Dean."   
        "Yeah, and uh..." Dean started, pulling out a bulk of glass work. "Moby Dick's bong."  
        "So what do we do?" You questioned.  
        "We wait. Sit in the Impala and see if Andy comes back." Sam answered.  
        "Okie dokie." You chimed, walking past the brothers and towards the car.   
        You sat in the back and watched as Sam walked down a different street, leaving Dean to stalk over to the car alone.   
        "Hey, where's he going?" You asked as Dean sat in the driver's seat.   
        "He's getting some grub." Dean answered carefully.   
        "Okay, what's up? Why are you being so snippy and awkward with me?" You asked, climbing over the seats and into the passenger seat.  
        "You scuff my seats and you're out and waiting on the street... And I'm not being awkward or snippy." He answered.  
        "Dean, you just did it again...." You pointed out. You both sat in silence for well over ten minutes. "Did I do something wrong?"   
        "No, Y/N, you just. I don't want to talk about this, okay?"   
        "No. It's not okay. I'm staying with you and Sam. You're all I've got left, and I really don't want to have either of you hating me right now." You snapped.   
        "I don't hate you. Sam doesn't hate you. Clearly." He snapped back.  
        "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You asked, turning and facing him. He was staring through the windshield, not making eye contact with you whatsoever. He bit down on his lip and closed his eyes.   
        "The cemetery. I saw it. I'm not saying you can't have feelings for Sam, I just don't want this to screw it all up." He rushed out in a breath.  
        "Dean, that's not--" Right when you were about to explain everything to him, Sam knocked on the passenger window. You acknowledged him and then climbed into the back, not even coming within a 3 foot radius of Dean. Maybe it would be better to let him cool off.  
        Sam handed out the food, some sort of burger for Dean, salad for himself, and a turkey sandwich for you. you all ate in silence.  
        "You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something that we didn't have to microwave at a minimart." Dean grumbled, balling up his napkins and throwing them into the food bag Sam had brought. You finished up your sandwich and leaned against the cool leather.  
        "What I don't get is the motive. The doctor was squeaky clean. Why would Andy waste him?" Sam asked while he flipped through the files they had gotten.  
        "If it is Andy." Dean quipped.   
        "Dude, enough." Sam snapped.   
        "Why?" Dean asked.   
        "The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math." Sam explained.  
        "I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all." Dean replied.  
        "How the hell would you know?" Sam asked incredulously. "Why are you bending over backwards defending him?"   
        "Cause you two aren't right about this." Dean replied.   
        "About Andy?" You asked.   
        "HEY! You think I haven't seen you three?" Andy himself asked, slamming against Sam's door. "Why are you following me?" His voice went from normal, to a sort of distorted.   
        "Well, we're lawyers. A relative of yours has--" Sam began.  
        "Tell the truth." He said again. Your mind went wobbly for a second and you closed your eyes, trying to block everything out.  
        "We hunt demons." Dean answered honestly.   
        "What?" Andy asked.   
        "Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch." Dean continued. "Sam's my brother. Y/N is a close friend."   
        "Dean, shut up!" Sam shouted.  
        "I'm trying." Dean replied to Sam. "He's psychic, like you. Well, not really like you. He thinks you're a murderer. So does Y/N. But Sam is afraid he's going to become one himself, cause you're all part of something that's terrible. I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm getting scared he might be right."  
        "Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone." Andy ordered.   
        "Okay." You and Dean answered simultaneously while Andy walked away. Sam quickly hopped out of the Impala, following after him. You looked at Dean and shrugged before hopping out and walking towards Sam, Dean on your heels.   
        "Doesn't seem to work on me, Andy." Sam told the small man. "You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think." Sam held out a hand to stop you and Dean from coming any closer.   
        "That's crazy." Andy answered.  
        "It all started about a year ago, didn't it? After you turned 22. Little stuff at first, then you got better at controlling it." Sam continued.   
        "How do you know all of this?" Andy asked.  
        "'Cause the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities, too. You see, we're connected, you and me." Sam replied.   
        "JUST GET OUT OF HERE." Andy yelled.  
        "Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?" Sam asked, stepping closer to Andy.  
        "What?" Andy asked.   
        "Why did you kill him?" Sam asked, pain flooding his face. Something was wrong.   
        "I didn't." Andy answered.  
        "SAM?" You called. He scrunched in pain again and turned away from Andy, rubbing his face. Dean ran over, trying to help Sam recover from whatever was going on while Sam sat on the pavement.   
        "I didn't do anything to him." Andy told us. You walked over slowly, watching Andy out of the corner of your eyes.   
        "Sam? What's going on?" Dean asked.   
        "A woman. A woman was burning alive." Sam answered.   
        "What else you get?" Dean asked.   
        "A gas station. A woman is going to kill herself." Sam added.  
        "What does he mean 'going to?" Andy asked.   
        "Shut up." You snapped at him.  
        "She gets triggered by a call on her cell." Sam explained.   
        "When?" Dean asked.   
        "I don't know..." Sam answered. "As long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can't hurt her." He added as he stood up.   
        "I didn't hurt anybody!" Andy yelled.   
        "Woah, woah! Shut up! Hear that?" You asked. Sirens. Soon a firetruck breezed past all of you.   
        "Go." Sam ordered you and Dean. Before you could argue, Dean took your hand and towed you towards the Impala. You climbed into the passenger seat and waited. Soon the engine was going and we were speeding alongside a firetruck.  
        "Dean... This isn't looking good." You whispered as we came to a stop at a gas station.   
        "No, it's not." Dean replied, hopping out of the car. You ghosted his movements and followed behind him, a smell filling your nostrils in seconds. "Burning flesh." Dean told you as you scrunched up your nose.   
        "Shit." You cursed, looking at the crisp body of a woman in front of the gas tanks. "I'll call Sam."   
        The rings sounded and you became impatient.   
        "Hello?" Sam's voice asked.   
        "Hey, it's me. She's dead, Sam." You announced.   
        "Burned up, like you said." Dean added, scooting closer to your ear so that Sam could hear him.  
        "When?" Sam asked.   
        "Had to be minutes before we got here, right?" You asked Dean. He nodded. "Yeah, minutes. The smell is still here."   
        "What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start." Dean added again.  
        You handed Dean the phone and headed back towards the Impala. The smell of burning flesh was starting to give you a migraine and the sight of it wasn't pleasing, either.          
        "So it wasn't Andy." You stated as we headed back towards the road that would take you both back to Sam and Andy.  
        "It's not Andy." Dean replied.

\---------------------------------

        "Victim's name is Holly Beckett. 41. Single." Dean told Sam as the two of you climbed out of the Impala. Sam and Andy were sitting next to each other, seemingly friendly.  
        "Who is she?" Sam asked Andy.   
        "Never heard of her." Andy answered.  
        "Called Ash on the way over here, he came up with a little something. Apparently Holly Beckett gave birth when she was 18 years old, back in 1983-- Same day you were born, Andy." Dean added.  
        "Andy, were you adopted?" Sam asked.  
        "Well, yeah." Andy replied.  
        "You were. And you neglected to mention that?" Dean quipped.  
        "It never really came up." Andy explained. "I mean, I never knew my birth parents, and like you said, my adopted mom died when I was a baby. Do you think this Holly woman could actually be --"  
        "I don't know." Dean answered. "Tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only. They're sealed in the county office."  
        "Well, screw that." Andy scoffed. "Easy."   
        You all stuffed into the Impala, Sam giving you the passenger seat so you wouldn't need to sit next to the strange man you now had with you. Chivalry at its finest. The county office came into view after a while, Andy and Sam leading the way, you and Dean following. A few quick words from Andy to the security guard and you all were in.   
        "Probably shouldn't have let you kids in here." The guard spoke as we walked through the aisles of files.  
        "No, it'll all be fine, all right?" Andy replied. "Just go grab a cup of coffee, all right? These aren't the droids you're looking for."   
        "Awesome." Dean grinned, happy with Andy's Obi-Wan reference.          
        "I got it." Sam chirped from his place in front of a pile of files. Andy sat next to Sam. "Andy, it's true. Holly Beckett was your birth mother."  
        "Does anyone have a vicodin?" Andy asked.   
        "Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too." Sam added. "I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them."  
        "Yeah, but I didn't kill them." Andy retorted.  
        "We believe you." Dean replied honestly.   
        "Yeah." Sam whispered.   
        "But, uh, who did?" Dean asked.   
        "I think I got a pretty good guess." Sam announced. "Holly Beckett gave birth to twins."  
        "I have an evil twin." Andy spoke aimlessly, raising his arms and crossing them above his head.  
        "Holly put you and your brother up for adoption, and you went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate." Sam read from the files.   
        "Andy, how you doing? You still with us?" You asked.   
        "Um... What was my brother's name?" Andy asked Sam.   
        "Here, Ansem Weems."   
        "He lives here?" Andy asked.   
        "Let's go have a look at him." Dean spoke from the fax machine. "Got a picture coming from the DMV right now." Dean pulled the papers and flipped through them. His lips forming an 'o' on the last page. "Hate to kick you while you're freaked. Take a look at that."   
        "Fuck..." Andy whispered.   
        "Well, we know where to go, let's get there." Dean ordered, already halfway out the door of the office. We all followed close behind and entered the Impala again.  
        "So, wait." You began while Dean drove. "Ansem is your twin but he's known as Weber and he lives here?" You asked.   
        "Bingo." Dean replied.   
        "Tell us everything you know about this guy." Sam ordered Andy.  
        "I don't know much. Weber shows up one day, like eight months ago, acting like he's my best friend in the world. He's kind of weird, like trying too hard, you know?" Andy explained.   
        "He must have known you guys are twins. Why did he change his name? Why not tell you the truth? Especially after you score him tickets to a concert." Dean replied while focusing on the road.  
        "Agh." Sam moaned, grabbing at his head again.   
        "Sam?" You asked, turning in the front seat. "Dean, stop the car." You ordered. Dean quickly obliged, pulling to the side of the road. Sam climbed out instantly, rubbing his head again.   
        "What's wrong?!" Dean shouted, hopping out after him.  
        "The dam. We need to go to the dam. He has Tracy." Sam replied. Andy went stiff as a board in the backseat and the men climbed back in. Speeds approaching 80 as we barreled down the roads.   
        "There." Sam pointed to an old car on the bridge. Sam, you and Dean all climbed out and went to the Impala's trunk. "Dean, Y/N, you should stay back."  
        "No, Dean stays back. He's a better shot than I am. Plus, it will be more difficult for Weber or whatever the fuck his name is to hurt anyone with more of us there." You snapped back. Dean was about to argue but bit his tongue, instead grabbing a rifle and heading for some trees.  
        "Tracy's out there. I'm going." Andy spoke up, holding his hand out. You handed him a small pistol and grabbed a pistol for yourself, along with a knife. You took the right side of the bridge, Andy on the left, and Sam directly in the middle.   
        Within seconds Sam had the driver's window smashed in. "GET OUT OF THE CAR. NOW!" He exploded.   
        "You really don't want to do that..." Weber growled.  
        Sam punched him and soon Weber was in the road next to Sam, and Andy had Tracy out. You exhaled and relaxed.  
        "I couldn't control myself." Tracy sobbed while Andy and Sam taped Weber's mouth shut. Andy went for a punch but Sam stopped him, resulting in Andy's profanities being littered throughout the air.  
        "Tracy, no!" You shouted before she knocked Sam out with a huge branch.  
        You tried to sneak up on her, but he saw you. "Stop." Your brain felt fuzzy and you came to a halt in the road. The voice wasn't heard by anyone else. It was in your head. You turned and saw Weber staring right at you. "Drop any weapons you have." And then you were unarmed, your arms moving without your own commands and dropping your pistol and knife to the pavement. "Good job hot stuff." Weber spoke after he pulled the tape from his mouth.  
        "Tracy stop! I said stop it." Andy ordered. Tracy dropped the branch and fell to the pavement. "How did you do that?!" Andy yelled at Weber.   
        "Practice, bro." Weber replied, smiling. "If you just practiced, you would know. Sometimes.. you don't need to use your words. If you have to, all you  need is this." Weber added, pointing towards his head. "Sometimes the headache is worth it."   
        "You twisted son of a bitch!" Andy shouted, grabbing Weber's shirt collar.   
        "Back off, Andy. Or Tracy is going to do a little flying." Weber warned. You watched Tracy climb on top of the bridge, ready to jump.  
        "Don't!" You screamed.   
        "Shut up." Weber ordered. Your mouth closed. "I'm stronger than you." Weber told Andy. "I can do it."  
        "Okay, okay. Okay." Andy replied, dropping his hands and raising them in defense. "Just don't hurt her."  
        "Don't be mad at me, okay? I know it's all wrong. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's just, Tracy? She's trying to come between us." Weber explained.   
        "You're insane." Andy replied. You tried to move, but you couldn't. You were completely frozen, and Sam was unconscious. Dean needed to be quick with the rifle.  
        "She's garbage! Man, they all are. We can push them. We can make them do whatever we want!" Weber yelled.  
        "Are you really-- are you really this stupid?" Andy asked. "You learn you got a twin, you call him up, you go out for a drink. You don't start killing people!"   
        "I wanted to tell you for so long, bro, but he didn't let me." Weber explained. "He said I had to wait."   
        "Who?" Andy asked.   
        "The man with the yellow eyes." Weber replied. You saw Sam's figure moving a bit from the corner of your eyes.  
        "What are you talking about?" Andy asked.   
        "He came to me." Weber explained. "In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me. Wait till you see what's in store, Andy. For both of us. See, he's the one that told me I have a brother, a twin."  
        "Then why did you kill our mother, and Dr. Jennings?" Andy asked.   
        "Because they split us up!" Weber screamed. "They ruined our lives, Andy. We could've been together this whole time instead of alone. I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them get away with that. No."  
        You saw Dean's figure come into view at the end of the bridge in a bush. He started to ready the rifle. Weber's face twisted and then he turned towards Dean's hideout.   
        "I see you." He cooed. No. No, no, no. "Bye-bye."   
        Dean shifted the rifle to where the barrel was pointed towards under his chin. Suicide. Your insides were screaming and you felt your body go into panic. Your mind was screaming and tears were pouring down your face. And then there was the gunshot.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.

                You waited for Dean's figure to fall, but it didn't, instead, Weber's did. Andy stood behind him with the pistol still aimed at Weber's collapsed body. Sam stood up and made sure Weber was dead, and Andy immediately went to help Tracy down.  
        You were already halfway down the bridge. Your lungs were burning and your legs were wobbly, but you ran. You felt your body collide with his before you could process how close you were to each other. The scent of gunpowder, whiskey, leather and cheap soap filled your nose and body. Warmth radiated throughout the figure you were clutching and the sobs racked your body.   
        "You fucking scared me." You choked out, nuzzling your face further into Dean's chest.   
        "Sorry, sweetheart." He whispered, kissing your forehead. "Is Weber a goner?"   
        "I think so." You laughed, pulling him even closer.   
        "Dean?! Y/N?!" Sam's voice echoed around the trees next to you and Dean. Dean looked over and gave you another quick hug, before kissing your cheek and heading towards the bridge.

\-------------

        "Look at him, he's getting better at it." Sam told you and Dean while he was examined by a paramedic. Andy stood in front of three cops, fabricating a story that he'd make them believe. They seemed satisfied with his explanation before turning and heading over to talk to the paramedics. Andy walked past Tracy and towards where you were sitting.   
        "She won't even look at me." He told the three of you.  
        "Yeah, she's pretty shaken up." Sam replied.   
        "No, it's different. I never used my mind thing on her before, before last night. She's scared of me now." Andy told you sadly.   
        "Andy, I hate to do this, but, um, we have to get out of here." Andy exhaled and looked at the ground. "Here. I wrote down my cell. You don't have to be alone in this, all right?" Sam explained. "If anything comes up, you can call me up." Dean tapped your shoulder and walked towards the Impala. You and Sam followed.   
        "What am I supposed to do now?" Andy asked from behind you.  
        "You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back." Dean answered.   
        "We don't want to come back." You added.          
        "Looks like I was right." Sam spoke up.   
        "About what?" Dean asked.   
        "About Andy. He's a killer after all." Sam answered.   
        "No. He's a hero." Dean argued. "He saved his girlfriend's life. He saved my life."  
        "Bottom line, last night he wasted somebody." Sam explained.   
        "He's still not a foaming-at-the-mouth psycho." You reasoned.   
        "He was pushed into that." Dean added.   
        "Weber was pushed into that too, in his own way." Sam argued. "Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death."  
        "What's your point, Sam?" Dean asked annoyed.   
        "Right circumstances, everyone is capable of murder. Everyone. You know, maybe that's what the demon is doing -- pushing us, finding ways to break us."  
        "We don't know what the demon wants." Dean replied. "Quit worrying about it."   
        "You know, we heard you before, Dean." Sam called. "When Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am."  
        "That was mind control!" Dean yelled back. "It's like being roofied, man, it doesn't count."   
        "What?" You asked.   
        "I call a do-over." Dean added.   
        "Are you 7?" You asked in disbelief, stifling laughter.   
        "Doesn't matter. Look, we gotta just keep doing what we're doing. Find that evil son of a bitch, and kill it." Dean reasoned.  
        "Yeah. Sure, Dean-O." You replied, watching as Dean answered his ringing cell phone.  
        "Hello? Ellen. What's going on?" Dean asked while Sam and you waited in the car. "Yeah. We'll be right there."   
        Dean climbed in and didn't tell you or Sam why you were going to Ellen's. It was odd behavior from him, but you dismissed it, listening to the Zeppelin soundtrack that played softly in the Impala during the ride. The roadhouse finally came in to view hours later, the sun rising behind it.  
        You all got out and made our way into the bar. Ellen stood and waited for us. "Beers?" She asked.          
        "Yeah." Dean answered. "Two."   
        "Make that three. I'm feeling a beer tonight." You chimed in.  
        "Jo, go pull up another case of beer." Ellen ordered.  
        "Mom..." Jo complained.   
        "Now. Please." Ellen quipped. You raised your eyebrows at the interaction while you took a swig of beer into your mouth, downing it and despising the bitterness to it.  
        "So, uh..." Dean started.  
        "You want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?" Ellen snapped, leaning against the bar counter.  
        "Nope." Sam said.  
        "Not really." Dean added.   
        "What they said." You replied, taking another swig.  
        "No offense, just kind of a family and close friends thing." Dean explained.  
        "Not anymore." Ellen argued, lifting and slamming a fat stack of papers on the bar counter. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burned down on his 6 month birthday, just like you two's house." Ellen pointed to the brothers on either side of you. "You all think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"  
        "Yeah, we think so." Sam answered.   
        "Sam..." Dean warned.  
        "Why?" Ellen asked.   
        "No offense, but that's none of your business." You chimed in.  
        "You mind your tongue with me, girl." Ellen shouted. You rose your eyebrows again and shut your mouth, anger swelling up inside of you like a balloon. "This isn't just your war. This is war. Something big and bad is coming, and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best, all we got is us -- together. No secrets or half-truths here."  
        "There are people out there." Sam started. "Like Andy Gallagher... Like me... And, um, we all have some kind of ability."   
        "Ability?" Ellen repeated.   
        "Yeah, like psychic ability. Me, I have um.. I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know. It's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."   
        "What kind of plans?" Ellen asked.   
        "We don't really know for sure." Sam answered.  
        "These people out there, these psychics, are they dangerous?" She questioned further.   
        "No." Sam answered quickly.   
        "Not all of them." Dean added.  
        "Some are." You continued. "Some are very, very dangerous."  
        "Okay, how many?" She asked.   
        "We've been able to track a clear pattern so far." Dean answered. "They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's 6 month birthday."  
        "That's not true." Sam argued.  
        "What?" Dean asked incredulously.   
        "Weber or Ansem Weems or whatever his name is, I looked at his files and there was no house fire." Sam explained. "There's nothing out of the ordinary."  
        "Which breaks pattern." Ellen added. "So if there's any others like him, there would be nothing in the system, no way to track them all down."  
        "And so who knows how many of them are really out there?" Dean wondered out loud.  
        "We sure as hell don't." You replied.  
        "Jo, honey." Ellen called.   
        "Yeah?" Jo answered. 

        "You better break out the whiskey instead."


End file.
